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Daniel Whitehead Hicky, night, in English Clear filters

ContemplativeDaniel Whitehead Hicky

Snowfall After Dark

I could not tell by sound of wind Nor sighing of a single flake Against the pane that all the world Lay pale with snow in darkness’ wake, And sad am I that I was left Outside this secret of the night That turned a thousand blackened boughs Into a flowering of white. Since man has little time to learn Through springtime’s doubtful weather How tireless fingers of the sun Put apple blooms together, Had but the wind’s voice prompted me, Or hint of snowflake drifted through, I could have witnessed in an hour What April takes a month to do.
DreamyDaniel Whitehead Hicky

Nocturne: Georgia Coast

The shrimping boats are late today; The dusk has caught them cold. Swift darkness gathers up the sun, And all the beckoning gold That guides them safely into port Is lost beneath the tide. Now the lean moon swings overhead, And Venus, salty-eyed. They will be late an hour or more, The fishermen, blaming dark’s Swift mischief or the stubborn sea, But as their lanterns’ sparks Ride shoreward at the foam’s white rim, Until they reach the pier I cannot say if their catch is shrimp, Or fireflies burning clear.

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