In Winter
Oh, to go back to the days of June,
Just to be young and alive again,
Hearken again to the mad, sweet tune
Birds were singing with might and main:
South they flew at the summer’s wane,
Leaving their nests for storms to harry,
Since time was coming for wind and rain
Under the wintry skies to marry.
Wearily wander by dale and dune
Footsteps fettered with clanking chain—
Free they were in the days of June,
Free they never can be again:
Fetters of age, and fetters of pain,
Joys that fly, and sorrows that tarry—
Youth is over, and hopes were vain
Under the wintry skies to marry.
Now we chant but a desolate rune—
Oh to be young and alive again!
But never December turns to June,
And length of living is length of pain:
Winds in the nestless trees complain,
Snows of winter about us tarry,
And never the birds come back again
Under the wintry skies to marry.
Envoi.
Youths and maidens, blithesome and vain,
Time makes thrusts that you cannot parry;
Mate in season, for who is fain
Under the wintry skies to marry?
Louise Chandler Moulton.