I choose white, but with
Red on it, like the snow
In winter with its few
Holly berries and the one
Robin, that is a fire
To warm by and like Christ
Comes to us in his weakness,
but with a sharp
song.
By R. S. Thomas
from H’m (1972)
I choose white, but with
Red on it, like the snow
In winter with its few
Holly berries and the one
Robin, that is a fire
To warm by and like Christ
Comes to us in his weakness,
but with a sharp
song.
By R. S. Thomas
from H’m (1972)