Winter Thoughts.
The wild hedge-rose is dead, the crimson berry1
Reddens amid the woods,2
In coppice brown, no happy bird makes merry3
The dreary solitudes.4
From summer homes have fled the nestlings tender,5
Beneath the cottage leaves,6
And morn and eve, sweeter their song shall render7
No more, from out the leaves.8
The orchard fruits are pluck’d, the smooth cheeked peaches9
That blushed upon the wall,10
Each blossom as it droops and withers, teaches11
Its lesson in its fall.12
Lightens no more the sunset’s amber glory13
The green hill tops with gold,14
Wild vapours wreathe at eve the mountains hoary,15
Gray mists the stars enfold.16
In happy homes, above the smiling faces,17
The scarlet holly glows,18
The leafy garlands, with its white flower graces,19
The small pale winter rose.20
Coldly upon the moorlands wide and dreary,21
Glitters the hoarfrost white,22
Oh, heart ! like those gray moorlands waste and weary,23
And wrapt in mists of night ;24
Glimmers the frost in all its silent whiteness,25
Slumbers the seed below,26
Behind the cloud is hid the starry brightness—27
The flower beneath the snow.28