There's not a sound tonight <br />I look out and am beaten <br />In my face by curious, white, <br />Unexpected flakes <br />Of snow in a daze fleeting <br /> <br />And retire shievering to <br />The warm room and the lamplight <br />Where my music waits, and O <br />Ben Jonson lies…… <br />For delight my man's nature with his great spirit. <br /> <br />O warmth! O Golden light! <br />O books behind me waiting <br />Their turn for my love's thought…… <br />Turning from work <br />To wrap myself in a past of golden lighting. <br /> <br />Music must flow with his power, I <br />Bend over my task and am hard <br />At wrestling with the stuff for mastery <br />That is dumb music now-- <br />My spirit and I wrestle, you may hear us breathing hard. <br /> <br />Was there and Love, could draw me <br />Out of my true way of work and action? <br />Yes, one there was, but Time has dared show me <br />(A soldier and maker) <br />That time dares all things, and defies ever question.<br /><br />Ivor Gurney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snow-129/
