But when the sweet moon comes,

Showering her silver down,

Half-wreathèd in faint sleep,

They droop where they have blown.

So all the grass is set,

Beneath her trembling ray,

With buds that have been flowers,

Brimmed with reflected day.

[Pg 26]

[Pg 26]

WINTER

Clouded with snow

The cold winds blow,

And shrill on leafless bough

The robin with its burning breast

Alone sings now.

The rayless sun,

Day's journey done,

Sheds its last ebbing light

On fields in leagues of beauty spread

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