It was not for these days of searching cold That I have mulched my dormant heart so deep In diffidence, in gay distraction and with cheap Dry leaves of memory and dead loves consoled, But for that sweet mid-season of false spring When second youth like maple sap arising Colors each bough with fool's warm gold, disguising With the soft wind's Judas kiss the icy reckoning. Unstirred the roots, green leaf and bud unborn Beneath the frost line lie in winter's sleep. God grant the drifting snows fall white and deep Above my heart until an April morn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING DURING WIND AND RAIN by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: 9. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY by JOHN MILTON TO THE SAME PURPOSE by THOMAS TRAHERNE ON FRIENDS AND FOES by WILLIAM BLAKE AN INSCRIPTION by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |