COUNTRY THOUGHT FROM A TOWN (ii)

Cold, is it cold? Blows there a wind All night through? Does a frozen dew Lie on the wold? Dark, is it dark? Blotted from being Cottage and garth? Has the last hearth Quenched its spark? Still, is it still? Wakes the wind only? Sunk in a deep Midwinter sleep Valley and hill? No, not all cold, Nor yet all dark, Nor yet quite still. Such is not God’s will. In the sheepfold, Warm in the ewe’s fleece, Lies the lamb newborn. To and fro all night The shepherd bears a light, Telling his flock’s increase.