The Sea at Night

Sunk is the sun beneath the sea,

    And now across the spray

Stealing as softly as can be

    In place of radiant day

Comes peaceful night; its silver lord,

    The shadow-spattered moon,

Orders the waves without a word

    To sparkle as at noon.

 

Frothy and light, the waves take heed

    And glisten as they go.

Each droplet, like a crystal bead,

    Into his beams they throw.

Yet, as they play and splash the light

    And never seem to cease,

All still and silent rests the world

    In undiminished peace.

 

T. G. 2/27/22

The Reign of Winter

The seasons in procession slow

    Pass on their way.

At last the rain yields to the snow

    The rule of day.

More white than wool of purest sheep,

    The flakes drop down

To cover with a blanket deep

    The earth's dull brown.

The air the dainty doilies fill.

    A windy gust

Makes drifts like to an ashen hill

    Or mound of dust.

A night both cold and dark draws nigh

    With bitter breeze,

And makes the snow piled up so high

    Turn hard and freeze.

When from on high the dawn breaks forth

    In streaks of red,

The cold-baked hill is perfect as

    A place to sled.

With breathless speed the children zoom

    And glide on by.

As flecks of dust beneath a broom

    Do snowflakes fly.

And when they tire of merry play,

    They drag their feet

Back to their homes where, night or day,

    They may get heat.

Meanwhile, the outside world stays cold,

    Peaceful, and still,

From frozen stream to fenced-in-fold

    To each white hill.

But not forever cold and white

    Will all things be:

At last the snow yields rule of night

    To rain's decree.

T.G. 12/8/2021