Saturday, 7 January 2017
From The White Radiance of Winter Project...
The colour that glanced and glowed in the heart of the hills of dream,
The light that dazzled and drew in the year that is on the wane.
The song with the moan of the wind and the whirr of the moorland steam,
they are still in a realm unreached, so we turn to the quest again.
Bring us new hopes, New Year; kindle fresh pharos-fires,
But whatsoever thou bring this boon of thy grace afford,
That in twelve moons' time we may still be afar from our dream-desires;
For never the thing attained is the thing we have toiled toward.
Not found poet...