And that immortal call which fills

The waiting wood with songs?

The snow-drops came so long ago,

It seemed that Spring was near!

But then returned the snow

With biting winds, and earth grew sere,

And sullen clouds drooped low

To veil the sadness of a hope deferred:

Then rain, rain, rain, incessant rain

Beat on the window-pane,

Through which I watched the solitary bird

That braved the tempest, buffeted and tossed

With rumpled feathers down the wind again.

Oh, were the seeds all lost

When winter laid the wild flowers in their tomb?

I searched the woods in vain

For blue hepaticas, and trilliums white,

And trailing arbutus, the Spring's delight,

Starring the withered leaves with rosy bloom.

But every night the frost

 Prev. P 48/647 next