To every season its own story:
Spring bulbs bursting into glory,
Summer greening every tree,
Autumn like a golden sea
Of crinkled leaves that tremble down
In shades of yellow, bronze and brown;
And winter has its wonders too,
Fairer than summer ever knew:
The woods are manacled with snow
In scattered silver falls, that glow
Among fir branches black and green -
A contrast, magic to be seen -
Rich darkness, in white purity.
Winter’s winds are wild and free.
Where boiling clouds of darkness rolled,
Swift sunlight strikes the world to gold.
Winter is no season of the dead.
Perched on a black branch overhead,
A blue tit preens its ruffled wings,
Twinkles cheerful eyes and sings,
While puppies flick their tails and play
In the white fields of the day;
And children’s laughter, piping high,
Runs in ripples to the sky.