Poem July 2, 1990 Issue

Dark and cold we may be, but this...

Christopher Fry

Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now. The frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move,
The thunder is the thunder of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us till we take
The longest stride of soul men ever took.
Affairs are now soul size.
The enterprise
Is exploration into God.

From A Sleep of Prisoners by Christopher Fry. Copyright © 1951, 1979 by Christopher Fry. Reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press, Inc.

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