BURIED TREASURE

When the musicians hide away their faces,
And all the petals of the rose are shed,
And snow is drifting through the happy places,
And the last cricket's heart is cold and dead;
O Joy, where shall we find thee?
O Love, where shall we seek?
For summer is behind thee,
And cold is winter's cheek.

Where shall I find me violets in December?
O tell me where the wood-thrush sings to-day!
Ah! heart, our summer-love dost thou remember
Where it lies hidden safe and warm away?
When woods once more are ringing
With sweet birds on the bough,
And brooks once more are singing,
Will it be there--thinkst thou?

When Autumn came through bannered woodlands sighing,
We found a place of moonlight and of tears,
And there, with yellow leaves for it to lie in,
Left it to dream, watched over by the spheres.
It lies like buried treasure
Beneath the winter's cold,