Last night grey Winter made his first foray
And stole away kind Autumn’s russet cloak.
Where on the grass where tumbling leaves did play
A glittering pall he spread and at a stroke
Each muddy lane by frost is crusted hard
Whilst skeletons of trees like mourners stand
And crystal ice is shattered shard on shard
by stamping feet that tramp the rigid land.
Nature now acts as if the world was spent
as drifting snow provides a winding sheet.
Whilst keening winds howl out a wild lament
And for the bitter tears, the driving sleet.
But Death can die by Resurrection too
For ’neath that oak a pale green shoot peeps through.