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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341366" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>December Matins</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">``Why, on this drear December morn,<br>Dost thou, lone Misselthrush, rehearse thy chanting?<br>The corals have been rifled from the thorn,<br>The pastures lie undenizened and lorn,<br>And everywhere around there seems a something wanting.''<br>Whereat, as tho' awondering at my wonder,<br>And brooded somewhere nigh a love-mate nesting,<br>He more loud and longer still<br>'Gan to tremble and to trill,<br>Height after height of sound robustly breasting;<br>As if o'erhead were Heaven of blue, and under,<br>Fresh green leafage, and he would<br>Cleave with shafts of hardihood<br>The mists asunder.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only the singer it is foresees,<br>Only the Poet has the voice foretelling.<br>When the ways harden and the sedge-pools freeze,<br>He hears light-hearted Spring upon the breeze,<br>And feels the hawthorn buds mysteriously swelling.<br>Though to the eaves the icicles are clinging,<br>Or from the sunward gables dripping, dripping,<br>He with inward gaze beholds<br>Liberated flocks and folds,<br>The runnels leaping, and the young lambs skipping,<br>And dauntless daffodils anew upspringing,<br>So throughout the wintry days<br>Meditates prophetic lays,<br>And keeps on singing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not the full-volumed Springtime song,<br>Not April's note with rapture overflowing,<br>Melodious cadence, early, late, and long,<br>Now low and suing, now serenely strong,<br>But the heart's intimations musically showing<br>That Love and Verse are never out of season.<br>Though the winds bluster, and the branches splinter,<br>He, through cold and dire distress,<br>Companioned by cheerfulness,<br>Descries young Mayday through the mask of Winter.<br>Doubt and despair to him were veilëd treason,<br>Fashioned never to despond,<br>By Foreseeing far beyond<br>The range of Reason.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore, brave bird, sing on, for some to hear<br>If faintly, fitfully, and though to-morrow<br>Will be the shortest day of all the year,<br>Though fields be flowerless and fallows drear,<br>And earth seems cherishing some secret sorrow,<br>The dawn will come when it anew will glisten<br>With tears of gladness, glen and dingle waken,<br>Winter's tents be furled and routed,<br>April notes be sung and shouted,<br>Over the fleeing host and camp forsaken;<br>The nightingale ne'er cease, the cuckoo christen<br>Hedgerow posies with its call,<br>And unto glee and madrigal<br>The whole world listen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341366" data-title="December Matins de Alfred Austin" data-description="``Why, on this drear December morn,
Dost thou, lone Misselthrush, rehearse thy chanting?
The corals have been rifled from the thorn,
The pastures lie undenizened and lorn,
And everywhere around there seems a something wanting.''
Whereat, as tho' a..."></div>
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