When falls the winter snow I little care nor yet what cold winds blow, For here beside the fire Are many friends of whom I never tire: Jane Austin sits with me And oh, what company! Or else the Brontes make the fireside glow With their strange spirit. Wordsworth comes and then Most lovable of men, Dear Browning, ah, I've named not even ten Of those who come and go. When the December of my life shall come and those that now I love, The best, perhaps -- are gone, I shall not be quite friendless and forlorn, These same dear ones will be Spring, youth and love to me, I shall be young with them and happy too, And who can tell? In that great Afterplace, I, by diviner grace, May touch their hands and look upon each face With happiness anew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOURTH OF JULY by JOHN PIERPONT VILLANELLE: AU RETOUR DU PRINTEMPS by PHILIP SCHUYLER ALLEN STOKLEWATH; OR, THE CUMBRIAN VILLAGE by SUSANNA BLAMIRE THE LORDS' MASQUE: ENTHEUS SPEAKS by THOMAS CAMPION THE OLD SPRING by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE MERCHANT'S TALE - EPILOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |