Tuesday, January 2, 2018


It freezes- all across a soundless sky 
The birds go home. The governing dark's begun: 
The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun; 
The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die.

Death, with his evil finger to his lip, 
Leers in at human windows, turning spy 
To learn the country where his rule shall lie 
When he assumes perpetual generalship. 

The undefeated enemy, the chill 
That shall benumb the voiceful earth at last, 
Is master of our moment, and has bound 
The viewless wind it-self. There is no sound. 
It freezes. Every friendly stream is fast. 
It freezes; and the graven twigs are still. 

~Hilaire Belloc

"Winter Landscape" by Jan van de Cappelle (1626-1679).
Oil on canvas; private collection.

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