Winter Night - for Jerry

If glory almost in excess
Is what makes heaven fair,
Then here along beside this pond
I might perhaps be there.

The rocks, the stumps, the leafless shrubs,
And all the plainest, drabbest things
Must rival in their robbing white
The shimmer of a Gabriel's wings.

And all the trees ensheened in ice,
The moon-kissed oaks and snow-bowed pines,
Are doubtless bright as any jewel
That in the heavenly city shines.

And God omnipotent, I think,
Would find it a creative strain
To duplicate the diamonded sky
That scintillates above the lake.

A frozen hush lies on the hills;
The tired wind has ceased to blow.
I shiver! Yet my kneeling heart
With flaming worship is aglow.

- Vernon Grounds