Autumn 1941 • Vol. III No. 4 Younger PoetsFebruary 17, 2024 |

Boy at a Christmas Tree

The snow falls softly, softly whereThinking of islands, how the dead boys freeze,I thought of islands, îlots de mémoire;The retreat and the approach to the island in the pondDeep in the forest’s centre, when wolves draw near:There is a wolf now whirling through the snowInto the Christmas eve, by Envy’s stareLed like a dog-star to the island’s waste. Snow like pity, like the inexperienced rose,Cradles the branches that the tender swanMay swing as gently as the angel sways,Rewarded for its heaven. But which has fallen?The wolf leaps lightly over the stiff, cold figure,Where I too spring, gifted with human natureAnd a boy’s alphabet, the fierce, untamable tigerDreamed of in the legend where only boys survive. Set in the holiday forest, were-wolves cry,Seeing the ball of glass with its flashing mirror,A human color holding wolves at bay:The furious dog-star burns at the Christmas topWhere the scene revolves, confused in the expected snowBy the wolf of the fable, dancing

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The Younger Poets

By J. C. R.

The snow falls softly, softly whereThinking of islands, how the dead boys freeze,I thought of islands, îlots de mémoire;The retreat and the approach to the island in the pondDeep in […]

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