Woods of White
The ravens of the dell have flown,
Unto the woods of white,
Flapping tumult, madly blown,
Under the creeping night.
They speak to me in cawing voice,
Complaining at mine ghost—
I rove these trees alone, by choice,
In winter blaze engrossed.
Meditating on the frost,
That spreads in hoary coat,
Gleams upon the pine trees tossed,
In forest glades remote.
I walk into the purple tint,
That carries with the moon,
The spark of hope, alight like flint—
I’ll see forever soon.
I’ll shuffle from this mortal pain,
Into the arms of death,
And never know such hurt again,
And flee mine wretched breath.
I’ll see the span of Jesus’ love,
Beyond this veil of tears,
A providential treasure trove,
Divorced from earthly fears.
There at Jesus’ holy throne,
I’ll fall upon mine knee,
“Abba, father”, I’ll intone,
Then greet Infinity…
ADL
adamdaniel 