No Songs in Winter
No Songs In Winter
Read more about No Songs in Winter>The sky is gray as gray may be,
There is no bird upon the bough,
There is no leaf on vine or tree.In the Neponset marshes now
Willow-stems, rosy in the wind,
Shiver with hidden sense of snow.So too 't is winter in my mind,
No light-winged fancy comes and stays:
A season churlish and unkind.