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The Meadows In Spring

by
 'Tis a dull sight
To see the year dying,
When winter winds
Set the yellow wood sighing:
Sighing, oh! sighing.
When such a time cometh, I do retire Into and old room Beside a bright fire: Oh, pile a bright fire! And there I sit Reading old things, Of knights and lorn damsels, While the wind sings— Oh, drearily sings! I never look out Nor attend to the blast; For all to be seen Is the leaves falling fast: Falling, falling! But close at the hearth, Like a cricket, sit I, Reading of summer And chivalry— Gallant chivalry! Then with an old friend I talk of our youth! How 'twas gladsome, but often Foolish, forsooth: But gladsome, gladsome! Or to get merry We sing some old rhyme, That made the wood ring again In summertime— Sweet summertime! Then go we to smoking, Silent and snug: Nought passes between us, Save a brown jug— Sometimes! And sometimes a tear Will rise in each eye, Seeing the two old friends So merrily— So merrily! And ere to bed Go we, go we, Down on the ashes We kneel on the knee, Praying together! Thus, then, live I, Till, 'mid all the gloom, By heaven! the bold sun Is with me in the room Shining, shining! Then the clouds part, Swallow soaring between; The spring is alive, And the meadows are green! I jump up, like mad, Break the old pipe in twain, And away to the meadows, The meadows again!

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