Page:Poems by Ellen Russell Emerson.djvu/92

Rh Oh, alas, the winter pale, Lieth all abroad; The birds are away, Where the spring doth stay, Down beneath those skies, Skies, where summer lies.

Ay, the earth doth ache at heart For the sweet warm air, The songs that will thrill The light that's so chill, And the pain it knows Is the weight of snows.