Friday, January 27, 2017

Winter in the Unknown Eros by Coventry Patmore and Tasha Tudor

I, singularly moved
To love the lovely that are not beloved,
Of all the seasons, most
Love Winter, and to trace

The sense of the Trophonian pallor in her face.
It is not death, but plentitude of peace;
And the dim cloud that does the world enfold
Hath less the characters of dark and cold
Than warmth and light asleep,
And corespondent breathing seems to keep 
With the infant harvest, breathing soft below
Its eider coverlet of snow.

                                                                        --Coventry Patmore
                                                                               Winter in the Unkown Eros

Oh! Plentitude of peace.... I love that line. 

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