I dreamed Old Winter donned his trailing mantle Of ermine, and his wealth of jewels rare; I saw them glisten—though 'twas but a vision— Like frozen sunshine in his snowy hair; I saw him tread upon the summer's blossoms— I saw it plainly, yet 'twas but a dream— He turned each leaf into a crystal pendant, And laid his icy hand upon each stream. He left no flow'r; the Earth's warm, throbbing bosom He hid beneath a kerchief smooth and white; How could he know that she concealed beneath it As many secrets as a summer night Conceals beneath her floating veil of darkness? How could he see that 'neath the covering prim She wore, upon a slender cord of sunshine, An image of the laughing face of Spring? I dreamed each snowflake drifting down from cloudland, O'er mountain ridges and o'er forests grand, Was but the petal of a Summer flow'r, Disguised and set adrift by Spring-tide's hand; That when Old Winter on his throne sits dreaming She glides to earth; and in long midnight hours, Upon each windowpane, with skillful pencil, Designs the patterns of a thousand flow'rs. He sits in glistening robes and royal jewels And grimly smiles to think his work is done; And all the while the brown earth keeps her secret, And Spring-time masks her blossoms, one by one; Then welcome gladly thou each starry fragment— Each is a shrouded bud, a spring-tide flow'r— 'Tis thus, at least, I saw it in a vision, 'Tis thus I dreamed it in an idle hour. |