Poems (Proctor)/Take Heart
TAKE HEART!
All day the stormy wind has blown From off the dark and rainy sea;No bird has past the window flown,The only song has been the moan The wind made in the willow-tree.
This is the summer's burial time; She died when dropped the earliest leaves,And, cold upon her rosy prime,Fell direful autumn's frosty rime,— Yet I am not as one that grieves;
For well I know o'er sunny seas The bluebird waits for April skies;And at the roots of forest treesThe May-flowers sleep in fragrant ease, And violets hide their azure eyes.
O thou, by winds of grief o'erblown Beside some golden summer's bier,—Take heart! Thy birds are only flown,Thy blossoms sleeping, tearful sown, To greet thee in the immortal year!