Snow

There's not a sound tonight
I look out and am beaten
In my face by curious, white,
Unexpected flakes
Of snow in a daze fleeting
And retire shievering to
The warm room and the lamplight
Where my music waits, and O
Ben Jonson lies……
For delight my man's nature with his great spirit.
O warmth! O Golden light!
O books behind me waiting
Their turn for my love's thought……
Turning from work
To wrap myself in a past of golden lighting.
Music must flow with his power, I
Bend over my task and am hard
At wrestling with the stuff for mastery
That is dumb music now--
My spirit and I wrestle, you may hear us breathing hard.
Was there and Love, could draw me
Out of my true way of work and action?
Yes, one there was, but Time has dared show me
(A soldier and maker)
That time dares all things, and defies ever question.