In Green Ways
Among the leaves I make a rhyme,
To the winter in its pall,
For the poor, forgotten time
Has not had a song at all.
Winter! winter! do not fear,
You shall have an icy crown
At the falling of the year,
When the leaves have tumbled down.
I am singing to you here,
Though the bud is on the tree,
At the falling of the year
You will sing a song to me.
To the winter in its pall,
For the poor, forgotten time
Has not had a song at all.
Winter! winter! do not fear,
You shall have an icy crown
At the falling of the year,
When the leaves have tumbled down.
I am singing to you here,
Though the bud is on the tree,
At the falling of the year
You will sing a song to me.
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