The Winter Moon|
Perched above the mountains high
Glowing bright in the ebony sky
An Angle of the passing gloom
The golden orb of the winter moon
Its moonbeams pierce the dark of night
And descend upon the blanket white
A fiery shimmer on the icy land
Lit by the touch of the moonbeams hand
Oh darkness darkness, of winters night
Afraid you are of the angels light
Run away you evil gloom
For its the time of the winter moon.
© 1992 James Parker Haley
Used with permission:
Now Winter Nights Enlarge
~Thomas Campion~ (1567-1620)
Now winter nights enlarge
The number of their hours;
And clouds their storms discharge
Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze
And cups o'erflow with wine,
Let well-tuned words amaze
With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall wait on honey love
While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights
Sleep's leaden spell remove.
This time doth well dispense
With lovers' long discourse;
Much speech hath some defense,
Though beauty no remorse.
All do not all things well;
Some measures comely tread,
Some knotted riddles tell,
Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys,
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,
They shorten tedious nights.
Perhaps an Angel Told You Once of Love
Perhaps an angel told you once of love,
A spirit pure, not knowing fear or shame.
Until that whispered word, perhaps, you came
Less willing to the winds that some hearts move,
After which you had for them a name.
Shadow is the haunt of beauty
Shadow is the haunt of beauty.
Ecstasy closes the eyes.
The light illumines only a disguise;
Halfway out the door is truth.
Listening does not imply sound;
Offering does not imply need.
Reason edits more than it reveals.
Readiness is a way of seeing.
After the word, there is the being;
Inside the word, the thing itself kneels.
Nothingness the earth, the word is the seed:
Each person, each thing, each moment a wound.
All Through The Night
Sleep, my child and peace attend thee,
All Through the Night.
Guardian angels God will send Thee
All Through the night.
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping;
God His loving vigil keeping
All Through the Night.
An Old Man's Winter Night
All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him -- at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off; -- and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man -- one man -- can't keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It's thus he does it of a winter night.