 | Flower Pieces and other poems |  |
117
WINTER VERDURE.
I sat at home, and thought there lived no green,
Because the time is winter; but, to-day,
Entering a park a mile or two away,
Smooth laurels tower'd as if no cold had been;
The tangled ivy, holly sharp and sheen,
Hung over nested ferns, and craglets gray
Broider'd with moss; high firs, a drooping screen,
Guarded their turfy lawn in close array.
Because the time is winter; but, to-day,
Entering a park a mile or two away,
Smooth laurels tower'd as if no cold had been;
The tangled ivy, holly sharp and sheen,
Hung over nested ferns, and craglets gray
Broider'd with moss; high firs, a drooping screen,
Guarded their turfy lawn in close array.
Soon shall the hopeful woodbine-garland swing,
And countless buds the misty branch impearl;
My little Portress, fair come Spring to you—
Life's and the year's—flower-cheek'd and sparkling girl!
Or are you, child, the Spirit of the Spring,
Safe in these warmer groves the winter through?
And countless buds the misty branch impearl;
My little Portress, fair come Spring to you—
Life's and the year's—flower-cheek'd and sparkling girl!
Or are you, child, the Spirit of the Spring,
Safe in these warmer groves the winter through?
| Flower Pieces and other poems | |