Jill Furse, by Angus McBean
CAROL
Beyond this
room
Daylight is
brief.
Frost with no
harm
Burns in white
flame
The green holly
leaf.
Cold on the
wind’s arm
Is ermine of
snow.
Child with the
sad name,
Your time is
come
Quiet as moss.
You journey now
For our belief
Between the
rich womb
And the poor
cross.
This is a delicate and allusive poem, very much in the English lyric tradition. Jill Furse should have much, much more attention bith as a poet and as an actress.
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