Roy Ernest Ballard


Midnight Mass - Poem by Roy Ernest Ballard



Soft airs there were among the Devon hills,
soft redstone and the softest ring of bells.
The pagan robin bosun-piped his trills
from ancient rafters where the deathwatch dwells,
his finger-feathers fluttering on the beams
above the candled crib and carolled choir.
Ah! Those who sang sing only now in dreams
though never could a living dream aspire
to such a benediction in the night.
Beloved tunes and voices fade away
while robin carols in the candlelight,
lamenting for his lost midsummer day
and we for joys we barely recognise,
soon snatched away from unaccustomed eyes.

Topic(s) of this poem: remembrance


Comments about Midnight Mass by Roy Ernest Ballard

  • Margaret O Driscoll (1/19/2016 5:32:00 AM)


    Beautiful, has the ring of the old masters about it! (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags


Poem Submitted: Monday, January 18, 2016



[Report Error]