The Pipes Of Christmas Past Poem by Mark Heathcote
The Pipes Of Christmas Past
The thistle-down rises
On the north winds blast
Old Scotland calls the pipes
The pipes of Christmas past
Snow on the snow fleeced-land
Where the grouse run rich
With the golden-hare
Beyond the fox's cavern's lair
Beyond the Mull of Kintyre
Beyond the Irish Sea
The pagan wood and the pagan tree
Is the heart-world of Christianity?
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/1/2024 5:56:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
