When in her cloudy chiton
Spring freed the donjoned rills,
And trumpeting, a Triton,
Wind-war was on the hills;
O'er ways, hope's buds bedizen,
Long ways the glory lies on,
Love spread us an horizon
Of gold beyond life's ills.
When Summer came with sickle
Stuck in a sheaf of gleams,
And eves were honey-trickle
From bee-hives of the beams;
Scrolls of the days blue-blotted,
Scrolls of the night star-dotted,
To love and us allotted
A world of woven dreams.
When Autumn waited tired —
A fair-faced heretic —
Auto-de-fes Frost fired
In Winter's Bishopric;
Our loves, a song had started,
Grew with the song sad-hearted,
Sweet loves long-sworn were parted,
Though life for love was sick.
Now is the Winter waited
‘ Neath skies of frozen gold,
Or raining heavens hated
Of winds that curse and scold.—
Shall this be so: that never
Shall sunlight snowlight sever?
Forever and forever
The heart wait winter-cold?