And the drifted snows lie deep;
I know that the cruel ice lies spread
O’er the laughing brook and the lake’s blue bed,
And the fountain’s rush and leap.
“I know, I know all this;
Yet here I sit—a rose!
Smiling I sit, and I feel no fear,
For God is good and the Spring is near,
Couched in the shrouding snows.
“Canst thou not smile with me?