And when cold winter comes at last,
Snowflakes shall be your butterflies.




WHEN THE CUCKOO SINGS


In summer, when the Cuckoo sings,
And clouds like greater moons can shine;
When every leafy tree doth hold
A loving heart that beats with mine:
Now, when the Brook has cresses green,
As well as stones, to check his pace;
And, if the Owl appears, he's forced
By small birds to some hiding-place:
Then, like red Robin in the spring,
I shun those haunts where men are found;
My house holds little joy until
Leaves fall and birds can make no sound;
Let none invade that wilderness
Into whose dark green depths I go--
Save some fine lady, all in white,
Comes like a pillar of pure snow.




RETURN TO NATURE