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Hang me a door with gables bright!
Hang me a door with gables bright!
So joy can find its way by night…
Through bootless tracks where great fords lie,
In the distance of an externals eye.
Here a swathe of farm lights—burn
Without oil, gas or peat-bog turf
Here a lantern hangs omnipotent and gold.
Bringing a shepherds flock back unto His fold
Where one man’s labouring, equals one lord’s serf
Where a prophet preached; till his own nocturne!
poem
by
Mark Heathcote
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