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Winter Woods

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 3, 1910

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 87, No. 5.

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Winter Woods

By Florence Jones Hadley

Gray, naked boughs that dumbly reach Wan, bloodless hands up to a sky All dark and stern and pitiless Wherein no signs of promise lie.
And yet, though sullen skies bend low O'er empty nests all tempest blown, Patient they wait in simple faith That Love must ever seek its own.
Through days that hold no gleam of sun, Through nights that know no moon nor star, They hold a dream of downy nests, Of warm scents blown from fields afar.
They hear the unbound streamlets sing Through waving meadows, wide and sweet, While through the drifted snow they feel The fevered pulse of summer beat.
O still gray woods, for me you hold A lesson that none else may teach— Who waits in faith, some glad, sweet day Shall clasp the good now out of reach.
— Florence Jones Hadley, in Northwestern Christian Advocate.