Poems (Proctor)/The Winter Solstice
THE WINTER SOLSTICE.
What is the time of the year? What is the hour of the day?Later at morn and sooner at eve The pale stars shine alway;And the low sun drifts to the south, So wan that at height of noonWe hardly know if the dun lightBe the parting glow of the sunlight Or the gleam of the risen moon;And ever through shade and fleeting shine We hear the bleak wind's rune:"Alas, alas for the summer fled, And earth and sky so gray!"
O for the odor of violets That sprang with the April rain,And the breath of the rose and the lily That long in their graves have lain!And O for the orchard's wealth of bloom, And the wheat-field's waving gold!—My heart is faint for the gloryOf harvest moons, and the story The balmy zephyrs told! How shall we live now earth is bare, And the sun himself is cold,And the blast of the bitter north goes by Bemoaning wood and plain?
Wait! there's a thrill in the air! See! in the south forlornThe great sun stays his wandering beams, And a new year finds its morn!The stars are a-watch, and the moon; The wailing wind drops low;There 's a murmur of daffodil meadows, And of songs in the sylvan shadows,And banks where the violets blow! Let fires be lit, let shrines be decked,And joy be lord of woe!— The sun, victorious, mounts the sky,And God for earth is born!