Saturday, January 25, 2014

Winter Barn

Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay
O'erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves,
Up to the rafters where the spider weaves,
Though few flies wander his secluded way.
Through a high chink one lonely golden ray,
Wherein the dust is dancing, slants unstirred.
In the dry hush some rustlings light are heard,
Of winter-hidden mice at furtive play.
Far down, the cattle in their shadowed stalls,
Nose-deep in clover fodder's meadowy scent,
Forget the snows that whelm their pasture streams,
The frost that bites the world beyond their walls.
Warm housed, they dream of summer, well content
In day-long contemplation of their dreams.

~ Charles G. D. Roberts (1860 - 1943 )


Patsy said...

Beautiful! This goes with a story I have just read about a family in that built a magnificent Renaissance house in Sissinghurst England.

Kathy said...

I don't know where you find these poems, but this one is gorgeous. I just felt as if I were standing in this barn looking around. Thanks so much for the post.

L. D. said...

I always enjoyed walking into our old barn on the farm. The smell of the new hay was so great and it was quiet. In March you could go looking for the new kittens that were hidden back into the holes between the bales.

Tweedles -- that's me said...

A cup of tea would be perfect right now!