I
At dawn, the warmth-awakened birds
Rouse us, by their sweet chorales beckoned,
Articulate in all but words
At dawn. The warmth-awakened birds
Employ Mozart’s ascending thirds
More jubilantly every second.
At dawn, the warmth-awakened birds
Rouse us, by their sweet chorales beckoned.
II
Northward from here a long-drawn gloaming
Lets dim light soften and linger on
Till birds fall silent, a last few homing
Northward from here. A long-drawn gloaming
Mutes Nature’s brilliant polychroming,
Its spectrum shrunken as all goes wan.
Northward from here a long-drawn gloaming
Lets dim light soften and linger on.
III
This time of year maples are turning
Golden, and oaks tobacco-brown.
Yet multitudes pass undiscerning
This time of year. Maples are turning
This way and that as if in yearning
With fitful gestures up and down.
This time of year maples are turning
Golden, and oaks tobacco-brown.
IV
A steady snow comes down aslant
With punishing cold that gives no quarter.
What comforts shall midwinter grant?
A steady snow comes down aslant
As fugitive and hierophant
Dream of green fields beside still water.
A steady snow comes down aslant
With punishing cold that gives no quarter.