The Poetry Corner

Winter

By Richard Le Gallienne

Winter, some call thee fair, Yea! flatter thy cold face With vain compare Of all thy glittering ways And magic snows With summer and the rose; Thy phantom flowers And fretted traceries Of crystal breath, Thy frozen and fantastic art of death, With April as she showers The violet on the leas, And bares her bosom In the blossoming trees, And dances on her way To laugh with May - Winter that hath no bird To sing thee, and no bloom To deck thy brow: To me thou art an empty haunted room, Where once the music Of the summer stirred, And all the dancers Fallen on silence now.