TO A SNOWFLAKE
What heart could have thought you? Past our devisal, (O filigree petal!) Fashioned so purely, Fragilelv, surely; From what Paradisal, Imagineless metal Too costly for cost? Who hammered you, wrought you, From Argentine vapour? “God was my shaper, Passing surmisal; He hammered. He wrought me, From curled silver vapour, To lust of His mind— Thou couldst not have thought me! So purely, so palely, Tinily, surely, Mightly, frailly, Insoulped and embossed With Ills hammer of wind, And His graver of frost." FRANCIS THOMPSON.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19270511.2.177.12
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 41, 11 May 1927, Page 14
Word Count
86TO A SNOWFLAKE Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 41, 11 May 1927, Page 14
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