Winter in the Country

Sweet life! how lovely to be here

         And feel the soft sea-laden breeze

Strike my flushed face, the spruce's fair

         Free limbs to see, the lesser trees'

Bare hands to touch, the sparrow's cheep

         To heed, and watch his nimble flight

Above the short brown grass asleep.

         Love glorious in his friendly might,

Music that every heart could bless,

         And thoughts of life serene, divine,

Beyond my power to express,

         Crowd round this lifted heart of mine!

But oh! to leave this paradise

         For the city's dirty basement room,

Where, beauty hidden from the eyes,

         A table, bed, bureau and broom

In corner set, two crippled chairs

         All covered up with dust and grim

With hideousness and scars of years,

         And gaslight burning weird and dim,

Will welcome me . . . And yet, and yet

         This very wind, the winter birds,

The glory of the soft sunset,

         Come there to me in words.