176
A WINTER WALK.
A WINTER WALK.
E never had believed, I wis,At primrose time when west winds stole
Like thoughts of youth across the soul,
In such an altered time as this,
When if one little flower did peep
Up through the brown and sullen grass,
We should just look on it, and pass
As if we saw it in our sleep.
Up through the brown and sullen grass,
We should just look on it, and pass
As if we saw it in our sleep.
Feeling as sure as that this ray
Which cottage children call the sun,
Colors the pale clouds one by one,—
Our touch would make it drop to clay.
Which cottage children call the sun,
Colors the pale clouds one by one,—
Our touch would make it drop to clay.
We never could have looked, in prime
Of April, or when July trees
Shook full-leaved in the evening bree
Upon the face of this pale time,
Of April, or when July trees
Shook full-leaved in the evening bree
Upon the face of this pale time,
Still, soft, familiar; shining bleak
On naked branches, sodden ground,
Yet shining—as if one had found
A smile upon a dead friend's cheek,
On naked branches, sodden ground,
Yet shining—as if one had found
A smile upon a dead friend's cheek,
