The Gatepost Vol. 14.6: Secret Unspoken and Unseen
Item
Title
The Gatepost Vol. 14.6: Secret Unspoken and Unseen
Description
"Secret Unspoken and Unseen
Outside this house upon this city hill
The coldest wind of winter pries at window, Fans out the snow from lawn and empty lot The way a mower fans out August hay.
Here from this window where I stand and watch And feel the slanted sun across my face, Is conjured up another, further scene Where winter dominates an island coast And locks it fast within a crusted bay.
Now does the cautious traveler on its shore Remember rocks the snow has camouflaged; Observe the nearer water: thickened; still; Froze hard to zig-zagged boulders, crystal spray. Now does he blink at dazzle just beyond Where ice smooths out to whiteness; thins to blue;
Becomes a moving sea, pierced by the sun.
Outside this house upon this city hill A snowplow vibrates slowly into view. And wind and man-made plow battle the snow Until it lies quite level, flat, and hard.
And high, neat mounds are margin to all walks. The wind that wrestled with the plow retreats. But not for long. With January whim It soon returns, and spins the new-piled snow Back to the street. And man’s conceit in taming Natural law dissolves again. The sun Shines down upon a brilliant world, Its secret still its own, and God’s.
—Bertha Carter Ruark ’37.
Courtesy of Deer Isle Messenger."
Outside this house upon this city hill
The coldest wind of winter pries at window, Fans out the snow from lawn and empty lot The way a mower fans out August hay.
Here from this window where I stand and watch And feel the slanted sun across my face, Is conjured up another, further scene Where winter dominates an island coast And locks it fast within a crusted bay.
Now does the cautious traveler on its shore Remember rocks the snow has camouflaged; Observe the nearer water: thickened; still; Froze hard to zig-zagged boulders, crystal spray. Now does he blink at dazzle just beyond Where ice smooths out to whiteness; thins to blue;
Becomes a moving sea, pierced by the sun.
Outside this house upon this city hill A snowplow vibrates slowly into view. And wind and man-made plow battle the snow Until it lies quite level, flat, and hard.
And high, neat mounds are margin to all walks. The wind that wrestled with the plow retreats. But not for long. With January whim It soon returns, and spins the new-piled snow Back to the street. And man’s conceit in taming Natural law dissolves again. The sun Shines down upon a brilliant world, Its secret still its own, and God’s.
—Bertha Carter Ruark ’37.
Courtesy of Deer Isle Messenger."