The White and the Green
I
It is winter in the Lakeland, and the sleeping islands lie,
Wrapped in pearl-embroidered ermine, crowned with milk-white ivory.
For many days have come and gone, and many hours are old,
Since the plover passed to southward at the coming of the cold.
II
It is summer in the Lakeland, and the islands lie serene,
All garmented in emerald, within a world of green.
For many days have come and gone, and many hours are old,
Since the plover passed to northward, and the April suns were gold.
It is winter in the Lakeland, and the sleeping islands lie,
Wrapped in pearl-embroidered ermine, crowned with milk-white ivory.
For many days have come and gone, and many hours are old,
Since the plover passed to southward at the coming of the cold.
II
It is summer in the Lakeland, and the islands lie serene,
All garmented in emerald, within a world of green.
For many days have come and gone, and many hours are old,
Since the plover passed to northward, and the April suns were gold.
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