Dew heavy lies upon the leaves
Swell hard towards the coming frost
Lean to the ground for warmth and writhe
Against cold bath but at what cost?
By sky stretch'd morning of belief
Cling hard to pores and green rich veins
Stretch wide and high with faith and hope
Come sun noon warm its strength regains
False promise comes by dappled noon
Bent weak with cold and pale with dark
Brown etchings paint the bitter'd edge
The breath of winter left its mark.
Upon my pane the gilding shows
My breath against the glass disguise
The harm between the frame and I
Sweet prism is a sunglint vise.
How oft' I wish for seasons charm
For colors of the greening gold
With blossom's nodding in the shade
Before they droop with dread'd cold.
And dew kiss'd lips and petals pink
Unshrunk and young with yawning bud
No need for curl and fold within
Nor shrinking to eternal mud.
The cost is dear and dry within
A summer garden's sweet repose
For naught is ev'r quite the same
When bud and heart in hurt are closed.