Say, my love, this world is whole:
a windfall here beneath the bole.
Or hold, my love, love’s time is now:
a flourish, then the fruit along the bough.
But O, my love, how hard to hold
bare thoughts of love in winter’s cold.
The apple limbs are bent and gray.
My love, O Christ, my love is far away.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Deliver Us from Evil
In a recent New York Times article entitled “Freedom With a Side of Guilt: How Food Delivery…
Natural Law Needs Revelation
Natural law theory teaches that God embedded a teleological moral order in the world, such that things…
Letters
Glenn C. Loury makes several points with which I can’t possibly disagree (“Tucker and the Right,” January…
