WHEN WINTER LODGED INSIDE


 

WHEN WINTER LODGED INSIDE

When winter lodged inside,

All my musings abandoned me:

I went into the blankets to hide,

And had no want of poetry.

How black the dark lamp lights the mind,

Smirks at my solitude:

Wave on wave of blackness with the tide,

I had no hope and no sense of gratitude:

Then my hand as with a memory of its own,

Brought me back -The Nightingale by Keats.

I remembered, he, with himself alone,

His brother dead, his life reduced to weeks:

Is deadness the essence of my essential?

Born to bring my fragile mind into the ethernity