In February / John Addington Symonds

In February

The birds have been singing to-day
And saying: "The spring is near!
The sun is as warm as in May,
And the deep blue heavens are clear."

The little bird on the boughs
Of the sombre snow-laden pine
Thinks: "Where shall I build me my house,
And how shall I make it fine?

"For the season of snow is past;
The mild south wind is on high;
And the scent of the spring is cast
From his wing as he hurries by."

The little birds twitter and cheep
To their loves on the leafless larch:
But seven foot deep the snow-wreaths sleep,
And the year hath not worn to March.

~~
John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)
from New and Old: A volume of verse, 1880 

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

John Addington Symonds biography

Harvest / John Addington Symonds

The west is purple, and a golden globe,
Sphered with new-risen moonlight, hangs between
The skirts of evening's amethystine robe
And the round world bathed in the steady sheen.
There bending o'er a sickle bright and keen,
Rests from his long day's labour one whose eyes
Are fixed upon the large and luminous skies :

An earnest man he seems with yellow hair,
And yellow neath his scythe-sweep are the sheaves;
Much need hath he to waste the nights with care,
Lest waking he should hear from dripping eaves
The plash of rain, or hail among thin leaves,
Or melancholy wailings of a wind,
That lays broad field and furrow waste behind.

Much need hath he the live-long day to toil,
Sweeping the golden granaries of the plain,
Until he garner all the summer's spoil,
And store his gaping barns with heavy grain;
Then will he sleep, nor heed the plash of rain,
But with gay wassail and glad winter cheer
Steel a stout heart against the coming year.

~~
John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)
from New and Old: A volume of verse, 1880 

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

John Addington Symonds biography

A Christmas Lullaby / John Addington Symonds

A Christmas Lullaby

Sleep, baby, sleep! The Mother sings:
Heaven's angels kneel and fold their wings.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

With swathes of scented hay Thy bed
By Mary's hand at eve was spread.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

At midnight came the shepherds, they
Whom seraphs wakened by the way.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

And three kings from the East afar,
Ere dawn came, guided by the star.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

They brought Thee gifts of gold and gems,
Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thou who liest slumbering there,
Art King of Kings, earth, ocean, air.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing:
Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.
                            Sleep, baby, sleep!

~~
John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)
from Christmas: Its origin, celebration and significance as related in prose and verse, 1907 

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

John Addington Symonds biography