A book of women's verse - Unknown

This time is not the first,

But this time is the last.

They trod the streets and squares where now I tread,

With weary hearts, a little while ago;

When, thin and grey, the melancholy snow

Clung to the leafless branches overhead;

Or when the smoke-veil’d sky grew stormy-red

In Autumn; with a re-arisen woe