The Beam
The dead white on the fields' dead white Turned the peace to misery. Tall bony trees their wild arms thrust Into the cold breast of the night. Brightly the stars shone in their dust. The hard wind's gust Scratched like a bird the frozen snow. Against the dead light grew the gold, Lifting its beam to that high dust; The lamp within the hut's small pane Called the world to life again. Arms of the trees atremble thrust Defiance at the cold Night of narrow shrouding snow. A human beam, small spear of light, Lifting its beauty to that high Indifference of starry dust. The aching trees were comforted, And their brave arms more deeply thrust Into the sky. Earth's warm light fingered the dead snow.
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About this line
"The dead white on the fields' dead white..."
Exploring the themes of classic, John Frederick Freeman delivers a powerful performance in "The Beam"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...