Labor and the Angel

by Duncan Campbell Scott

The moon is wrapped in a film,

She looks wan and chill:

Gather yourself in your cloak,

The winter is over the hill.

SPRING SONG.

Sing me a song of the early spring,

Of the yellow light where the clear air cools,

Of the lithe willows bourgeoning

In the amber pools.

Sing me a song of the spangled dells,