When Winter Sang

I heard the song, "Lift up, lift up
Your eyes! For beauty leaves the clod.
Oh, hush! Be still! A daffodil
Within its golden chalice-cup
Declares the artistry of God."

Within a clearing in a wood
I learned His ways beside a brook.
All summer long I heard the song
And, listening, I understood--
The thrush, the leaves, the wind, my book.

I heard the song when fruited lands
Bestowed fulfillment's accolade.
In autumn sun the willows spun
The gold of faith and I touched hands
With God ... and waited unafraid ...

Winter Carolers

The old Black Willow is a singing harp

With blackbirds strumming on its fragile strings.

December's moaning winds are drear and sharp

Yet symphonies bring cheer that echoing rings

On frosty air. I love these carolers

That make a lilting spring of winter days:

A hopeful prophecy; each throat avers

That life is sleeping. August sunset-rays

In spread wings give the joy of warning skies.

I love these melodies! They bring to me

My childhood hours, my father's youthful eyes.

He loved them as I do. In memory

We listen to their songs. He often said,

"These warblers bring us hope when spring has fled."

In My Winter Garden

She was little and wrinkled
And her hair was white
As the snow at her feet,
But her eyes were bright
As Black-eyed Susans--
With butterflies flitting--.
She spoke: nymphs of joy
Pirouetted, outwitting
The coldness of winter.
She said with a smile,
"How lovely that summer
Is resting awhile
Beneath all this beauty
White-sculptured in snow!"--
Now, in my winter garden
Black-eyed Susans grow.

Hon. Men. in Archer "People in Winter" Contest