![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsmYgik173C-s4YTFf__whOXDlHXyYUhOu3pfNyFMwnGKYp7O3WdrqFtw0x1EZccN_KYHG4uHIKczDJcD0rTxvJV_JwzzHkybRpLxKvFwwhauBtKPZd_WHpHa6WxygxVMA_LT/s200/windowpane.jpg)
Candle and cracker, needles of fir and frost;
Carols that through the night air pass, piercing
The glassy husk of heart and heaven;
Children's faces white in the pane, bright in the tree-light.
And the waiting season again,
That begs a crust and suffers joy vicariously:
In bodily starvation now, in the spirit's exile always.
O might the hilarious reign of love begin, let in
Like carols from the cold
The lost who crowd the pane, numb outcasts into welcome.
-- by Anne Ridler
1 comment:
Love this.
Cheryl
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