'Tis bed-time for the seeds now
For the earth is weary of green:
She'll hide the very weeds now
Till nothing gay be seen.
Yet wait! it is not death now
That strips the meadow and grove:
The rose but holds her breath now
In the garden that we love:
'Tis sleep—the earth must rest now.
[116] O Winter's a wondrous thing!
For she hides within her breast now
The jocund heart of Spring.
Fairseat.
The Common Wealth[ToC]
O voices of the sea and land,
How sweet upon my ear you fall!
The curlew's cry, the heron's call,
The grey gull's chatter on the strand,
The robin on the mossy wall,
The coal-tit almost at my hand—
How I thank Heaven for you all!
O wonder of the hills and sky,
How dear your beauty to my sight!
The wintry noon, the sea's delight,
The ruddy moorland far and high,
The pendant larch's silver white,
The golden wind-blown leaves that lie—
How I thank God for all this light!
Rosneath.