DECEMBER

Come walk a mile with me —‘ Tis dark December;

The cold, rough winds are never, never still;

O for the days of Spring I well remember!

O for the flowers that blossomed on the hill!—

And wish you not that you,— you too were playing

Upon the hillside, building castles there,

Dreaming sweet dreams, as when we went a-Maying,

Midst singing birds and blossoms sweet and fair?

But hark, the wind!— and see, the falling snow-flakes!

How thick they come — how beautiful they seem!

Yet I am weary — weary of the snow-flakes —

O Comrade!— tell me,— is it all a dream;

O Comrade!— Comrade!— Winter is upon us;

Our hopes, like snow-flakes, now are falling fast,

Our dreams are broken — God have mercy on us!—

We must not perish in the wintry blast —

For see, O see!— the sun,— the sun is shining!

‘ Tis noon, and lo!— yon glorious orb of day

Is turning backward, a New-year designing —

So shall all Winters turn to Spring alway.

And so shall Winter be an emblem only

Of the dark days that meet us, one and all,

Making our little lives seem sad and lonely,

Until the New-Year answers to our call,

Until another Spring renewing Nature;

Renews our hopes that were so desolate

Giving us faith that not one living creature

Is blindly born to blindly meet its fate.