quiet is the night
when the eyes of each home dimmed
when on the fir-clad valley's ground
when the eyes of each home dimmed
when on the fir-clad valley's ground
the dark stream lies in slumber
rare is the night
when the snow drifts in a soundless flight
when a gentle hand sows feathers
on earth's countenance
deep are the dreams
in which the frozen ponds immerse
spun in a silk of crystal moonlight
woven in elvish lands
sweet is the dawn
when a golden sun awakes
into a peaceful pristine morn.
5 comments:
for some reason that image reminded me of Karelia ..so peaceful.
and your words carry the air of elven forests, subtly wistful yet uplifting and healing for the heart and spirit. thank you for sharing~
Thank you so much. No compliment could shine brighter.
(hopefully you are well, sending light)
i have a diary where i write down some of your poems. your words are missed. hope you stay safe..
This makes me feel grateful : ) I shall write again, just the day is not yet foretold.
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