Words
10/8/1838-7/1/1905
When violets were springing
And sunshine filled the day,
And happy birds were singing
The praises of the May,
A word came to me, blighting
The beauty of the scene,
And in my heart was winter,
Though all the trees were green.
Now down the blast go sailing
The dead leaves, brown and sere;
The forests are bewailing
The dying of the year;
A word comes to me, lighting
With rapture all the air,
And in my heart is summer,
Though all the trees are bare.
DayPoems Poem No. 1551
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1551.html">Words by John Hay</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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