I wonder now if you ever remember... Whether your June is all turned to December... Gone are those winters of chats and of dances... Gone the aroma of life's young romances... Ah! well enough, as you dance on in joyance... Fashion and riches will mask much annoyance.
Christopher Pearse CranchIf there comes a little thaw, Still the air is chill and raw, Here and there a patch of snow, Dirtier than the ground below, Dribbles down a marshy flood; Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing, This is Spring.
Christopher Pearse CranchDecember drops no weak, relenting tear, By our fond summer sympathies ensnared; Nor from the perfect circle of the year Can even winter's crystal gems be spared.
Christopher Pearse CranchThought is deeper than all speech, Feeling deeper than all thought; Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves was taught.
Christopher Pearse CranchNo night so wild but brings the constant sun With love and power untold; No time so dark but through its woof there run Some blessed threads of gold.
Christopher Pearse Cranch