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VINE-LIFE.
237
VINE-LIFE.
N the dead barrenness of winter timeI marked this woodbine latticing the wall,
And said, "How pleasantly in summer's prime
This vine shall beautify and curtain all!"
Ere yet in leafless elms the robins sung,
Nature touched tenderly the network screen,
And with her silent fingers slowly strung
The limber stems with gems of living green.
Nature touched tenderly the network screen,
And with her silent fingers slowly strung
The limber stems with gems of living green.
Yet some remained unbudded. Day by day
I watched,—but not late April's gracious air,
Nor yet the warmer smiles of perfect May,
Brought promise to the tendrils brown and bare.
I watched,—but not late April's gracious air,
Nor yet the warmer smiles of perfect May,
Brought promise to the tendrils brown and bare.
Whereat I grieved. "The winter was unkind,"
I said, "to shatter thus my summer dream;—
How shall these dry limbs scatter shade, or blind
My window from the sultry August beam?"
I said, "to shatter thus my summer dream;—
How shall these dry limbs scatter shade, or blind
My window from the sultry August beam?"
