El poema que leerá Michael Connolly

Answer


THE WARMTH of life is quenched with bitter frost;  
Upon the lonely road a child limps by  
Skirting the frozen pools: our way is lost:  
    Our hearts sink utterly.  

But from the snow-patched moorland chill and drear,            5
Lifting our eyes beyond the spirëd height,  
With white-fire lips apart the dawn breathes clear  
    Its soundless hymn of light.  

Out of the vast the voice of one replies  
Whose words are clouds and stars and night and day,            10
When for the light the anguished spirit cries  
    Deep in its house of clay.