Goloshed beneath, umbrellaed overhead,
Anno Salutis eighteen seventy-nine.
The burden of cold hearthstones. Thou shalt see
Pale willow shreds and gold above the green;
And as the willow so thy face shall be,
And no more as the thing before-time seen.
And thou shalt say of sunshine, ‘It hath been,’
And, chilling, watch the chilly light decline;
And shivering-fits shall take thy breath between
Anno Salutis eighteen seventy-nine.