When Nature crouches from the biting air,
And even thought is paralyzed by winter,
I feel my spirit is not anywhere,
And Heaven too far to enter.
But summer comes with flocks of woolly clouds,
And rainbows, sunny showers, and wingèd shadows,
And mazy hedgerows, and green-mantled woods,
And honey-scented meadows;
The mingled breath of flowers, the choral strain
That thrills the air and shames our petty sadness;
The sweet abundance, the receptive brain,
The almost Heavenly gladness:
A resurrection in the earth and sky,
And winter's ills forgotten and forgiven,--
Ah, then, I feel we only need to die
To be at once in Heaven!
