Saturday, February 02, 2008

Silent Poetry Reading for the Feast of St. Brigid


To Emily Bronte

The witch-owls call, black shadows fall
About my lonely way;
The wind sinks down, and ne'er a sound
Proclaims the passing day.

I am alone, all others gone
Into the warmth and light,
Again once more, as oft before,
I hear the voice of night.

For me alone those murmurs come
From the rustling woods;
For me alone the sea makes moan
Beneath his aching floods.

All interwove with jewelled love
Are beauty, joy and woe;
All one with me, the singing sea,
The grey sheep as they go.

~ Florence Cortis-Stanford
from An Anthology of Scottish Women Poets
by Catherine Kerrigan

2 comments:

Jodi said...

I hadn't read that one before! I love the "witch-owls." Thanks for sharing a great poem.

deborahoak said...

a new one for me too! Thank you!