ONCE he sang of summer, Nothing but the summer; Now he sings of winter, Of winter bleak and drear: Just because there's fallen A snow-flake on his forehead. He must go and fancy 'T is winter all the year! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH RECOMPENSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |