I had no heart to write to thee in prose, The sadness in me sore demanded song; But the song came not, — laggard as the birds, That will not sing us back the little leaves. O winter of my heart — when comes the spring? I am sore weary of these deathlike days, This shroud unheaving of eternal snow, — O winter of my heart — when comes the spring? 'Tis time to answer, O nightingale, — 'Tis thine to sing the winter all away, Release the world from bondage, and bring back The sound of many waters and of trees, And little sleeping lives anumb with cold, — Yea! all the resurrection of the world. O winter of my heart! O nightingale! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INVOCATION by LOUIS UNTERMEYER ASKING FOR ROSES by ROBERT FROST THE FIRST SNOWFALL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL PSALM 23. THE SHEPHERD'S PSALM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE IN MY LADY'S PRAISE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE SONNETS ATTEMPTED IN THE MANNER OF CONTEMPORARY WRITERS: 1 by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |