In Winter, solid dew-drops hang
Unyielding to the fading Sun,
While melodies ice-crystals sang
Now through her motionless stems shall run.
Past empty branches light refracted
Reveal the Arctic’s frozen reign,
And the sense of life retracted
Shudders every creature’s vein.
My rose stands in the Winter, barren,
Not a twig nor leaf-bud stirring;
To others it may seem apparent
She shall not last long enduring.
But behold! When Spring again is drawing near,
She unfolds her blossoms dear.