The Pipes Of Christmas Past Poem by Mark. A Heathcote
The Pipes Of Christmas Past
The thistledown rises.
On the north wind's blast
Old Scotland calls the pipes.
The pipes of Christmas past
Snow on the snow-fleeced land
Where the grouse run rich
With the golden hare
Beyond the fox's cavern's lair
Beyond the Mull of Kintyre,
Beyond the Irish Sea,
The pagan wood and the pagan tree
It is the heart-world of Christianity.
Monday, June 30, 2025
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3/11/2026 3:10:19 PM # 1.0.0
