Soon Shall the Winter’s Foil Be Here
Soon shall the winter’s foil be here;Soon shall these icy ligatures unbind and melt—A little while,And air, soil, wave, suffused shall be in softness, bloom andgrowth—a thousand forms shall riseFrom these dead clods and chills as from low burial graves.
Thine eyes, ears—all thy best attributes—all that takes cognizanceof natural beauty,Shall wake and fill. Thou shalt perceive the simple shows, thedelicate miracles of earth,Dandelions, clover, the emerald grass, the early scents and flowers,The arbutus under foot, the willow’s yellow-green, the blossomingplum and cherry;With these the robin, lark and thrush, singing their songs—theflitting bluebird;For such the scenes the annual play brings on.