WHEN the musicians hide away their faces, And all the petals of the rose are shed, And snow is drifting through the happy places, And the last cricket's heart is cold and dead; O Joy, where shall we find thee? O Love, where shall we seek? For summer is behind thee, And cold is winter's cheek. Where shall I find me violets in December? O tell me where the wood-thrush sings to-day! Ah! heart, our summer-love dost thou remember Where it lies hidden safe and warm away? When woods once more are ringing With sweet birds on the bough, And brooks once more are singing, Will it be there -- thinkst thou? When Autumn came through bannered woodlands sighing, We found a place of moonlight and of tears, And there, with yellow leaves for it to lie in, Left it to dream, watched over by the spheres. It lies like buried treasure Beneath the winter's cold, The love beyond all measure, In heaps of living gold. When April's here, with all her sweet adorning, And all the joys steal back December hid, Shall we not laughing run, some happy morning, And of our treasure lift the leafy lid? Again to find it dreaming, Just as we left it still, Our treasure far out-gleaming Crocus and daffodil. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOOL'S PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL NEWS OF THE WORLD: 2 by GEORGE BARKER LOVE AND LANGUAGE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON PSALM 71 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SACRED FRUIT by HAZEL MCGEE BOWMAN CHRISTMAS ROSE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN SMYTH, CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |