FEBRUARY

THOU chilly month of wind and rain,
Of drifting at the whited pane,
’Twixt winter’s birth and winter’s wane;

Thou shrouded month of muffled snows,
Of gales from far off arctic floes,

When winter dieth of his woes;

Dost thou not through thy ice-bound girth,
Hear, in the warmer heart of earth,
The young spring dreaming of its birth,

When, stealing through thy mailed, strong

Ice-armor, comes the sweet low song
Of pied wind flowers, their streams along,

With sweet first-thoughts and prophesies
Of warm wet winds and soft blue skies
And meadows all a green surprise?

O, go thy way with gust and blow,—
For all thy looks of wintry woe,
Thou had’st a warm heart ’neath thy snow,

And all thy bluster and thy gust
A softer nature did encrust,