Winter Dusk
The black pines, and the pale-gold moon,
And the cold blue sky,
And the drumming whir of small hid wings
In the bush close by;
And the sober rose in the leaden sheen
Of the sedgy lake –
This beauty feeds and heals my heart
It used to break.
This joy that was a restless pang,
Pain-edged, sword-bright,
Now wraps me in stern tenderness,
Secure delight.
I have come home to the heart of things,
Made friends with pain,
And God has given me sevenfold
My joy again.
~~
Karle Wilson Baker (1878-1960)
from Burning Bush, 1922
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
Karle Wilson Baker biography
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