 | Short poems for short people |  |
50
LOOKING SPRINGWARD.
Hot on the garden's mounded snow
The sunbeams fall to-day,
And the icicle up at the roof is dripping
Its diamond spear away.
The sunbeams fall to-day,
And the icicle up at the roof is dripping
Its diamond spear away.
The wind is damp and sharp, yet I feel
In its touch no frosty sting—
The vaguest breath of a sweetness, rather,
Like the promise of far-off Spring.
In its touch no frosty sting—
The vaguest breath of a sweetness, rather,
Like the promise of far-off Spring.
In a moment this delicate warmth may die,
And cheerless gales be blown,
Trumpeting from the hills blue bastions
That winter guards his own.
And cheerless gales be blown,
Trumpeting from the hills blue bastions
That winter guards his own.
And the meadows by dusk may glisten chill,
And the pane be pictured fair,
And to-night on its boughs a starlit cuirass
The naked oak may wear.
And the pane be pictured fair,
And to-night on its boughs a starlit cuirass
The naked oak may wear.
But not with her happy dream, for this,
Shall pleasured fancy part,
Believing the first glad thrill to have wakened
Some violet's buried heart!
Shall pleasured fancy part,
Believing the first glad thrill to have wakened
Some violet's buried heart!
| Short poems for short people | |