 | Collected poems |  |
101
LOVE IN WINTER
Between the berried holly-bush
The Blackbird whistled to the Thrush:
“Which way did bright-eyed Bella go?
Look, Speckle-breast, across the snow,—
Are those her dainty tracks I see,
That wind beside the shrubbery?”
The Blackbird whistled to the Thrush:
“Which way did bright-eyed Bella go?
Look, Speckle-breast, across the snow,—
Are those her dainty tracks I see,
That wind beside the shrubbery?”
The Throstle pecked the berries still.
“No need for looking, Yellow-bill;
Young Frank was there an hour ago,
Half frozen, waiting in the snow;
His callow beard was white with rime,—
'Tchuck,—'tis a merry pairing-time!”
“No need for looking, Yellow-bill;
Young Frank was there an hour ago,
Half frozen, waiting in the snow;
His callow beard was white with rime,—
'Tchuck,—'tis a merry pairing-time!”
“What would you?” twittered in the Wren;
“These are the reckless ways of men.
I watched them bill and coo as though
They thought the sign of Spring was snow;
If men but timed their loves as we,
'Twould save this inconsistency.”
“These are the reckless ways of men.
I watched them bill and coo as though
They thought the sign of Spring was snow;
If men but timed their loves as we,
'Twould save this inconsistency.”
“Nay, Gossip,” chirped the Robin, “nay;
I like their unreflective way.
Besides, I heard enough to show
Their love is proof against the snow:—
‘Why wait,’ he said, ‘why wait for May,
When love can warm a winter's day?’”
I like their unreflective way.
Besides, I heard enough to show
Their love is proof against the snow:—
‘Why wait,’ he said, ‘why wait for May,
When love can warm a winter's day?’”
| Collected poems | |