The naked woodbine climbs the window-sill,
The breaths that noon exhales are faint and chill.
Tread lightly where the dainty violets blew,
Where to spring winds their soft eyes open flew;
Safely they sleep the churlish winter through.
Though all life’s portals are indiced with woe,
And frozen pearls are all the world can show,
Feel! Nature’s breath is warm beneath the snow!
—ANONYMOUS.
You’ll look at least on love’s remains,