SNOWFLAKES

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SNOWFLAKES – 24 December 2008

With all the snow we’ve had here lately, this poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow seems appropriate for today:

SNOWFLAKES
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807–1882)

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.

For a large collection of poems and stories, visit:
http://www.all-creatures.org/poetrydir.html


"Joyful Curmudgeon"
An oxymoron?
No! I see all the beauty of God's creation and I'm joyful.  At the same time, I see all the suffering and corruption going on in the world, and feel called to help expose and end it so that we may have true peace and compassion.

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