Margaret Magnus

Speak in your great voice
The throng
The silence

There walks a peculiar man

Dusk falls over the hollows
The deeper sounds thus settle
Where night does fall most swiftly
Where I abide in my innermost self

Air and inwardness

God knows
He walks

Oh, gentle night!
gentle winter, gentle snow
most silent and most white

I feel he walks
There can be no mistake

So have I come before your gate
And kneel
How does each flake that falls
impress itself on me