Poems (Rossetti, 1901)/"There is a budding Morrow in Midnight"
"THERE IS A BUDDING MORROW IN MIDNIGHT."
WINTRY boughs against a wintry sky; Yet the sky is partly blue And the clouds are partly bright:—Who can tell but sap is mounting high Out of sight,Ready to burst through?
Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring, Lovely for her daughter's sake, Not unlovely for her own:For a future buds in everything; Grown, or blown,Or about to break.