IN FEBRUARY DAYS
Fair Nature, like the mother of a wayward child
Who needs must chide the offspring of her heart,
Disguiseth for a season all the sweet and mild
Maternal softness for an austere part.
And ’neath her frown the errant earth in winter seems
Prostrate to lie, and petulant of mood;
Restrained in icy fetters all the babbling streams,
Like naughty babes who’re learning to be good.