Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive <br />Leap off the rim of earth across the dome. <br />It is a night to make the heavens our home <br />More than the nest whereto apace we strive. <br />Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive, <br />In swarms outrushing from the golden comb. <br />They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam: <br />The living throb in me, the dead revive. <br />Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath, <br />Life glistens on the river of the death. <br />It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt, <br />Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs <br />Of radiance, the radiance enrings: <br />And this is the soul's haven to have felt.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-heavens/
