AN UNWRITTEN POEM.
Windy March morn made dark,
By the inky blackness of sky,
Winds groaning and sighing in pain,
Blowing bare branches awry.
By the inky blackness of sky,
Winds groaning and sighing in pain,
Blowing bare branches awry.
A hollow, all fringed with the hazels,
Brown growths, and twining between,
The bitter-sweet's scarlet aglowing,
Bereft of its shading of green.
Brown growths, and twining between,
The bitter-sweet's scarlet aglowing,
Bereft of its shading of green.
The dry grass crackles and bends,
Neath a footstep nimble and light,
Two brown eyes are ashine,
Two crimson cheeks glowing and bright.
Neath a footstep nimble and light,
Two brown eyes are ashine,
Two crimson cheeks glowing and bright.
Wistfully pausing, she lingers,
At foot of the leafless old beech,
The hazel's stir, and his step,
She hastens in rapture to greet.
At foot of the leafless old beech,
The hazel's stir, and his step,
She hastens in rapture to greet.
Inky black sky, thou art drear,
And winds, thou art cruel and cold,
And winds, thou art cruel and cold,
