IN WINTER.

PALE from the watery west, with the pallor of winter a-cold,

Rays of the afternoon sun in a glimmer across the trees;

Glittering moist underfoot, the long alley. The firs, one by one,

Catch and conceal, as I saunter, and flash in a dazzle of gold

Lower and lower the vanishing disc: and the sun alone sees

At I wait for my love in the fir-tree alley alone with the sun.