‘So deep and long the darkening nights,
And cold the bitter-tasting air.
So lonely all the street-lanterns,
So plain now the grassy fields.
The meadows all are full of sheep,
And oxen kneeling to the stars.
There! The warmth spread through the night,
The clear red lights of homing blaze.
The fire arise and roar with pride,
The kitchen smells we can’t describe.
A gentle rain becoming flood
It’s unknown to us, we sleep inside.
How bright are all the street-lanterns,
And long the mist o’er the corpse.
So long the nights, so long the days,
From hour to hour, all resting times.
From dark to dark we travel on,
Until we come at last to stay.
Before the winter snows should fall,
I long to see the holly fruits.
Before the doors should close for all,
And winter’s wrath lock in our homes,
How I should love to see myself
Among the oxen fields, I might.’ – Kester Rose


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