Sonnet 447

This snow now falling fast upon more snow,

Ice feathered down upon the fields to rise

And robed in white the solemn cornstalk rows,

Stark sullen forms of winter’s might apprise.

Sad vanquished trees dark branches supplicate

Beneath that raglan parka they now bear,

Yet in disgrace they stand still proud and straight

To flout the frozen manacles they wear;

But winter’s mischief still is not here done

His gelid breath to drift the frigid blight

And build tall ramparts forged to brave the sun’s

Bright brazen rays with which he soon must fight.

Here in subnivean warmth I gaze and dream

That one day from this ruin shall summer gleam.

Loubert S Suddaby poems