>THE OPTIMISTThe fields were bleak and sodden.Not a wingOr note enlivened the depressing wood;A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stoodBeside the roadway. Winds came mutteringOf storms to be, and brought the chilly stingOf icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle mooedForth plaintive pleadings for the earth’s green food.No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.The sky was blank and ashen, like the faceOf some poor wretch who drains life’s cup too fastYet, swaying to and fro, as if to flingAbout chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.
The fields were bleak and sodden.Not a wingOr note enlivened the depressing wood;A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stoodBeside the roadway. Winds came mutteringOf storms to be, and brought the chilly stingOf icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle mooedForth plaintive pleadings for the earth’s green food.No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.
The sky was blank and ashen, like the faceOf some poor wretch who drains life’s cup too fastYet, swaying to and fro, as if to flingAbout chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.