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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355958" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Year’s Windfalls</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the wind of January<br>Down flits the snow,<br>Travelling from the frozen North<br>As cold as it can blow.<br>Poor robin redbreast,<br>Look where he comes;<br>Let him in to feel your fire,<br>And toss him of your crumbs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the wind in February<br>Snowflakes float still, <br>Half inclined to turn to rain,<br>Nipping, dripping, chill.<br>Then the thaws swell the streams,<br>And swollen rivers swell the sea:—<br>If the winter ever ends<br>How pleasant it will be!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the wind of windy March<br>The catkins drop down,<br>Curly, caterpillar-like,<br>Curious green and brown. <br>With concourse of nest-building birds<br>And leaf-buds by the way,<br>We begin to think of flowers<br>And life and nuts some day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the gusts of April<br>Rich fruit-tree blossoms fall,<br>On the hedged-in orchard-green,<br>From the southern wall.<br>Apple-trees and pear-trees<br>Shed petals white or pink, <br>Plum-trees and peach-trees;<br>While sharp showers sink and sink.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Little brings the May breeze<br>Beside pure scent of flowers,<br>While all things wax and nothing wanes<br>In lengthening daylight hours.<br>Across the hyacinth beds<br>The wind lags warm and sweet,<br>Across the hawthorn tops,<br>Across the blades of wheat. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the wind of sunny June<br>Thrives the red rose crop,<br>Every day fresh blossoms blow<br>While the first leaves drop;<br>White rose and yellow rose<br>And moss-rose choice to find,<br>And the cottage cabbage-rose<br>Not one whit behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the blast of scorched July<br>Drives the pelting hail, <br>From thunderous lightning-clouds, that blot<br>Blue heaven grown lurid-pale.<br>Weedy waves are tossed ashore,<br>Sea-things strange to sight<br>Gasp upon the barren shore<br>And fade away in light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the parching August wind<br>Corn-fields bow the head,<br>Sheltered in round valley depths,<br>On low hills outspread. <br>Early leaves drop loitering down<br>Weightless on the breeze,<br>First fruits of the year's decay<br>From the withering trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In brisk wind of September<br>The heavy-headed fruits<br>Shake upon their bending boughs<br>And drop from the shoots;<br>Some glow golden in the sun,<br>Some show green and streaked, <br>Some set forth a purple bloom,<br>Some blush rosy-cheeked.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In strong blast of October<br>At the equinox,<br>Stirred up in his hollow bed<br>Broad ocean rocks;<br>Plunge the ships on his bosom,<br>Leaps and plunges the foam,—<br>It's oh! for mothers' sons at sea,<br>That they were safe at home. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In slack wind of November<br>The fog forms and shifts;<br>All the world comes out again<br>When the fog lifts.<br>Loosened from their sapless twigs<br>Leaves drop with every gust;<br>Drifting, rustling, out of sight<br>In the damp or dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last of all, December,<br>The year's sands nearly run, <br>Speeds on the shortest day,<br>Curtails the sun;<br>With its bleak raw wind<br>Lays the last leaves low,<br>Brings back the nightly frosts,<br>Brings back the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christina+Georgina+Rossetti">Christina Georgina Rossetti</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=355958" data-title="A Year’s Windfalls de Christina Georgina Rossetti" data-description="On the wind of January
Down flits the snow,
Travelling from the frozen North
As cold as it can blow.
Poor robin redbreast,
Look where he comes;
Let him in to feel your fire,
And toss him of your crumbs.

On the wind in February
Snowflakes float st..."></div>
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