In Drear-Nighted December
In drear-nighted December,Too happy, happy tree,Thy branches ne'er rememberTheir green felicity:The north cannot undo themWith a sleety whistle through them;Nor frozen thawings glue themFrom budding at the prime.
In drear-nighted December,Too happy, happy brook,Thy bubblings ne'er rememberApollo's summer look;But with a sweet forgetting,They stay their crystal fretting,Never, never pettingAbout the frozen time.
Ah! would 'twere so with manyA gentle girl and boy!But were there ever anyWrithed not at passed joy?The feel of not to feel it,When there is none to heal itNor numbed sense to steel it,Was never said in rhyme.
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