130 BIRD NOTES 



WINTER SUNSHINE 



GENTLE winter sunshine, slant and pale ! 

 Thy timid smile falls sweetly on the earth, 

 And warms the poor chilled Singers into mirth 



The Poet, and the Rohin on the rail. 



Pale winter sunshine, weak as infant's touch, 

 No marvels wilt thou work while thou art here ; 

 And though we feel thy power to charm and cheer, 



When thou art gone we shall not miss thee much. 



No rose will open its warm heart to thee, 



Nor Earth at thy demand yield up her fruits ; 

 The hidden ferns around the beech-tree roots 



Will not unfurl thy pallid gleam to see. 



The sleeping crocus buds will still sleep on, 



And willows wave bare branches o'er their tomb ; 

 But thou, athwart the leafless forest's gloom, 



Wilt gleam where summer sunshine never shone. 



