Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed the speculating rooks at their nests cawed and saw from elm-tops, delicate as flower of grass, what we below not see, winter pass. And spring come...

During wind and Rain

They sing their dearest songs-
He, she, all of them - yea,
Treble and tenor and bass,
And one to play;
With the candles mooning each face...
Ah, no; the years O!
How the sick leaves reel down in throngs !

They clear the creeping moss-
Elders and juniors-aye,
Making the pathways neat
And the garden gay;
And they build a shady seat...
Ah, no; the years, the years;
See. the white storm-birds wing across.

They are blithely breakfasting all-
Men and maidens-yea,
Under the summer tree,
While pet fowl come to the knee...
Ah, no; the years O!
And the rotten rose is ript from the wall.

They change to a high new house,
He, she, all of them-aye,
Clocks and carpets and chairs
On the lawn all day,
And brightest things are theirs...
Ah, no; the years, the years;
Down their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.

To all my friends and readers
Have a nice EASTER