Fate in Arcadia, and other poems . 47 WINTER. Time sought through veils of snow the EarthWhere low she bent to await the sun,And found a little silent nun, Dreaming in prayer the Sacred Birth. 48 THE MAIDENS TO THE MONK. Nay, Father, is the world so iron-shored ? Find we no hope of heaven but earth abhorred,Our flying birds unfed, sweet rhyme unsung,And light-foot joys we have loved and lived among Cast out and trodden for the great reward ? May all the laughing children of the day. The sun-delighted hours return to playTo find us hidden in a deathly veil,For hope of light in heaven to never f
Fate in Arcadia, and other poems . 47 WINTER. Time sought through veils of snow the EarthWhere low she bent to await the sun,And found a little silent nun, Dreaming in prayer the Sacred Birth. 48 THE MAIDENS TO THE MONK. Nay, Father, is the world so iron-shored ? Find we no hope of heaven but earth abhorred,Our flying birds unfed, sweet rhyme unsung,And light-foot joys we have loved and lived among Cast out and trodden for the great reward ? May all the laughing children of the day. The sun-delighted hours return to playTo find us hidden in a deathly veil,For hope of light in heaven to never fail, Though now in life we hope their holier way ? This way of hope has been the linnets rest. She dedicates thereto her sacred nest In joys whereof we too would make love, the cup half drunk, half spilled away. We wait for who have come when fruits are pressed. 49 No, not the Masters loving is increased By those, for love of him, who leave the feast And with a scourge our happy hours assail. Earth is not fair to these,
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