Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/130

 HERE blooms no bud in May
 * Can for its white compare

With snow at break of day,
 * On fields forlorn and bare.

For shadow it hath rose,
 * Azure, and amethyst;

And every air that blows
 * Dies out in beauteous mist.

It hangs the frozen bough
 * With flowers on which the night

Wheeling her darkness through
 * Scatters a starry light.

Fearful of its pale glare
 * In flocks the starlings rise;

Slide through the frosty air,
 * And perch with plaintive cries.

Only the inky rook,
 * Hunched cold in ruffled wings,

Its snowy nest forsook,
 * Caws of unnumbered Springs.