Tuesday Poem

1047. It Is in Winter That We Dream of Spring

By Robert Burns Wilson

IT is in Winter that we dream of Spring;
For all the barren bleakness and the cold,
The longing fancy sees the frozen mould
Decked with sweet blossoming.

Though all the birds be silent,—though 5
The fettered stream’s soft voice be still,
And on the leafless bough the snow
Be rested, marble-like and chill,—
Yet will the fancy build, from these,
The transient but well-pleasing dream 10
Of leaf and bloom among the trees,
And sunlight glancing on the stream.

Though, to the eye, the joyless landscape yields
No faintest sign to which the hope might cling,—
Amidst the pallid desert of the fields,— 15
It is in Winter that we dream of Spring.

from Bartleby.com

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s