December 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.

We are spirits clad in veils.

No 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.

If 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.

O Light divine! we need no fuller test That all is ordered well; We know enough to trust that all is best Where Love and Wisdom dwell.

December 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.

We are spirits clad in veils; Man by man was never seen; All our deep communing fails To remove the shadowy screen.