Poems (Blake)/Without and Within

by Mary Elizabeth Blake

For works with similar titles, see Without and Within.

WITHOUT AND WITHIN.

When the June roses budded and bloomed,
 Flinging their sensuous fragrance high,
When the June sunsets goldened and gloomed,
 Fading away in the amber sky,—
I stood mid the rustling trees below,
 And these were the words my thought would spin,—
"Though green leaves shimmer and fair winds blow,
 'T is cold, cold winter, my heart within."

For far away in a stranger's land,
 Where the Southern Cross gleamed high above,
Was the fond, fond heart and the helping hand,
 And the tender eyes of mine own true love;
So m'd the passionate breath of the rose,
 And clamor of birds the wild wood in,
I said to myself, in the orchard close,
 "'T is cold, cold winter my heart within."

Now in the dim December night
 The bare trees shiver in icy mail,
And under the spectral moonbeams' light,
 The snow wreaths shine on the frozen vale;—
Cold is the blast of the north-wind's breath,
 But these are the words my thought would spin,—
"The earth lies still in the garb of death,
 But O! 't is summer my heart within."

There is a heart beats close to mine
 Come to me out of the land beyond;
There are dear eyes whose glances shine,
 There is a hand clasp close and fond.
Winds may whistle and tempests roar,
 None to my heart can enter in;
Here in the twilight I sing once more,
 "'T is winter without, but summer within."