The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes, And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise, And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room, And Christian dreadeth C... Read More
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,/His hair was like a light. (O weary, weary were the world,/But here is all aright.) The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast/His hair was like a star. (O stern and cunning are the kings,... Read More
