The Glittering North

Wind falls, a fountain of stillness in the mind;

Takes toll of grief this tough and moorland grass;

Sky-wounded water, having caught infinity

Flying yet rooted in your reedy glass

You draw their tenuous dole who wander blind.

From cloud-shed mistily shining, worlds moss-wet

The visiting glory fades, a giftless dream;

The wild years covet that yonder of serenity

Yet carry it with them, like this sedgeling stream

That braids the glittering north, a ghost in debt.