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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408288" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Christmas Creek</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Phantom streams were in the distance - mocking lights of lake and pool -<br>Ghosts of trees of soft green lustre - groves of shadows deep and cool!<br>Yea, some devil ran before them changing skies of brass to blue,<br>Setting bloom where curse is planted, where a grass-blade never grew.<br>Six there were, and high above them glared a wild and wizened sun,<br>Ninety leagues from where the waters of the singing valleys run.<br>There before them, there behind them, was the great, stark, stubborn plain,<br>Where the dry winds hiss for ever, and the blind earth moans for rain!<br>Ringed about by tracks of furnace, ninety leagues from stream and tree,<br>Six there were, with wasted faces, working northwards to the sea!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, the bitter, hopeless desert! Here these broken human wrecks<br>Trod the wilds where sand of fire is with the spiteful spinifex,<br>Toiled through spheres that no bird knows of, where with fiery emphasis<br>Hell hath stamped its awful mint-mark deep on every thing that is!<br>Toiled and thirsted, strove and suffered! ~This~ was where December's breath<br>As a wind of smiting flame is on weird, haggard wastes of death!<br>This was where a withered moan is, and the gleam of weak, wan star,<br>And a thunder full of menace sends its mighty voices far!<br>This was where black execrations, from some dark tribunal hurled,<br>Set the brand of curse on all things in the morning of the world!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>One man yielded - then another - then a lad of nineteen years<br>Reeled and fell, with English rivers singing softly in his ears,<br>English grasses started round him - then the grace of Sussex lea<br>Came and touched him with the beauty of a green land by the sea!<br>Old-world faces thronged about him - old-world voices spoke to him;<br>But his speech was like a whisper, and his eyes were very dim.<br>In a dream of golden evening, beaming on a quiet strand,<br>Lay the stranger till a bright One came and took him by the hand.<br>England vanished; died the voices; but he heard a holier tone,<br>And an angel that we know not led him to the lands unknown!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Six there were, but three were taken! Three were left to struggle still;<br>But against the red horizon flamed a horn of brindled hill!<br>But beyond the northern skyline, past a wall of steep austere,<br>Lay the land of light and coolness in an April-coloured year!<br>'Courage, brothers!' cried the leader. 'On the slope of yonder peak<br>There are tracts of herb and shadow, and the channels of the creek!'<br>So they made one last great effort - haled their beasts through brake and briar,<br>Set their feet on spurs of furnace, grappled spikes and crags of fire,<br>Fought the stubborn mountain forces, smote down naked, natural powers,<br>Till they gazed from thrones of Morning on a sphere of streams and flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out behind them was the desert, glaring like a sea of brass!<br>Here before them were the valleys, fair with moonlight-coloured grass!<br>At their backs were haggard waste-lands, bickering in a wicked blaze!<br>In their faces beamed the waters, marching down melodious ways!<br>Touching was the cool, soft lustre over laps of lawn and lea;<br>And majestic was the great road Morning made across the sea.<br>On the sacred day of Christmas, after seven months of grief,<br>Rested three of six who started, on a bank of moss and leaf -<br>Rested by a running river, in a hushed, a holy week;<br>And they named the stream that saved them - named it fitly - 'Christmas Creek'.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408288" data-title="Christmas Creek de Henry Kendall" data-description="Phantom streams were in the distance - mocking lights of lake and pool -
Ghosts of trees of soft green lustre - groves of shadows deep and cool!
Yea, some devil ran before them changing skies of brass to blue,
Setting bloom where curse is planted,..."></div>
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