THE wind is Winter, though the sun be Spring: The icy rills have scarce begun to flow; The birds unconfidently fly and sing. As on the land once fell the northern foe, The hostile mountains from the passes fling Their vandal blasts upon the lake below. Not yet the round clouds of the Maytime cling Above the world's blue wonder's curving show, And tempt to linger with their lingering. Yet doth each slope a vernal promise know: See, mounting yonder, white as angel's wing, A snow of bloom to meet the bloom of snow. . . . Love, need we more than our imagining To make the whole year May? What though The wind be Winter if the heart be Spring? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT E. LEE by JULIA WARD HOWE YOUTH'S SONGS by MAXWELL ANDERSON THE SWEET BRIER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: ON MY TWENTY-FOURTH YEAR by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |