No Bud in May

This is the time of year when I like to publish my snow poem. Well, its not mine - I wish I had written it!.  Its a De La Mare - and it is, for me, a Paradise earth poem.  Sometime, during the Thousand Years, when Jehovah wakes the poet from the dreamless sleep of death, he will see this lovely earth again.

Will he write more poems then?  Or not?

We were reminded at the Sunday meeting that Jehovah longs for that time, when he will awake all those he has held safe in his memory down the centuries.  He longs to see them again.

We read these lovely words from Job.

"If a man dies, can he live again? I will wait all the days of my compulsory service until my relief comes. You will call, and I will answer you. You will long for the work of your hands." - Job 14:14,15

Jean and I managed to get out on the door to door work Thursday, Friday and Saturday.   So we are more caught up than we usually are. And we did do some first calls and found some interest.

I have a talk in the Ministry School this Thursday.

Anyway, here is the poem.  Not that we have had any snow down here, in the lands of the South, but they certainly have had some 'oop North.   Just frost on the cars in the mornings so far.

There blooms no bud in May by Walter de la Mare There blooms no bud in May Can for its white compare With snow at break of day, On fields forlorn and bare. For shadow it hath rose, Azure, and amethyst; And every air that blows Dies out in beauteous mist. It hangs the frozen bough With flowers on which the night Wheeling her darkness through Scatters a starry light. Fearful of its pale glare In flocks the starlings rise; Slide through the frosty air, And perch with plaintive cries. Only the inky rook, Hunched cold in ruffled wings, Its snowy nest forsook, Caws of unnumbered Springs.