JEAN
ISABEL
SMITH .
* EASTERN
WINTER .
RITTER
and
shrill,
O wind , bitter
and
shrill,
D
Spare
us no
slashings
of
thy
frozen
blade ;
Most potent slayer,
stunning
heart
and
will,
Thought -numbing ,
grinding,
searing , unafraid ;
Scourge
of
the
iron
sea
and
snow
-
dumb ways
,
Whirl the white
stinging
dust
through
lifeless
skies
;
We wear
the
shackles
of
relentless
days
,
Give
us
thy
keenliest
-
whetted
cruelties
:
Then
,
when
we
flee
,
by
shadowy
ways
and
far
,
These mindless
shapes bereft
of
mystery
,
And
fare through
lands
where
scents
and colours
are
,
Yea
,
we
-
whose
souls
are
small
exceedingly
;
When
buttercups
'
largesse
on
sultry
plains
,
And
sun
-
dried
mowings
lying
sweet
and
grey
,
And
opal
benison
of
quiet
rains
Have
satisfied
the
reeling
sense with
May
;
Grant
us
remembrance
-
lest we
fail
to
know
One
lavish
moment
's
poignant loveliness
,-
)
How
in
the
grey
streets
passeth
to
and
fro
Shrill
-
crying
,
lost
,
night
-
blinded
bitterness
.
171