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Dinah Maria Mulock - A Winter Walk
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WE never had believed, I wis, 
At primrose time when west winds stole 
Like thoughts of youth across the soul, 
In such an altered time as this, 

When if one little flower did peep 
Up through the brown and sullen grass, 
We should just look on it, and pass 
As if we saw it in our sleep. 

Feeling as sure as that this ray 
Which cottage children call the sun, 
Colors the pale clouds one by one,-- 
Our touch would make it drop to clay. 

We never could have looked, in prime 
Of April, or when July trees 
Shook full-leaved in the evening bree 
Upon the face of this pale time, 

Still, soft, familiar; shining bleak 
On naked branches, sodden ground, 
Yet shining--as if one had found 
A smile upon a dead friend`s cheek, 

Or old friend, lost for years, had strange 
In altered mien come sudden back, 
Confronting us with our great lack-- 
Till loss seemed far less sad than change. 

Yet though, alas! Hope did not see 
This winter skeleton through full leaves, 
Out of all bareness Faith perceives 
Possible life in field and tree. 

In bough and trunk the sap will move, 
And the mould break o`er springing flowers; 
Nature revives with all her powers, 
But only nature;--never love. 

So, listlessly with linkèd hands 
Both Faith and Hope glide soft away; 
While in long shadows, cool and gray, 
The sun sets o`er the barren lands.
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