'NEATH the white tree sitting sadly, Thou dost hear the far winds wailing, Seest how the mute clouds o'er thee Are their forms in mist fast veiling; See'st how all beneath seems perish'd, Wood and plain, how shorn and dreary; Round thee winter, in thee winter, Frozen is thy heart and weary. Sudden downward fall upon thee Flakes all white, and with vexation Thou dost think the tree is show'ring Snow-dust from that elevation. Soon with joyful start thou findest 'Tis no snow-dust cold and freezing; Fragrant blossoms 'tis of springtime Cov'ring thee and fondly teasing. What a shudd'ring-sweet enchantment! Into May is winter turning, Snow hath changed itself to blossoms, And thy heart with love is yearning. |