Spring in Winter

My memories of you are singing birds

In the green forest of my mind, where I

May roam, recapturing your whispered words,

Or on a bank of glowing bluebells lie,

Listening for ever. Spring is come again

In all her glory; the erst withered trees

That creaked, like living skeletons in pain,

Defying the wind, have donned green garments: these

New shoots, these blossoms and these buds, the springing

Grass, and the sky where many colours blend,

My songsters by the magic of their singing

Have in a moment made. My thoughts of you

Are music which to all my spirit's rue

Is the ineffable answer and the end.