The Seasons Of Her Year

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Title:     The Seasons Of Her Year
Author: Thomas Hardy [More Titles by Hardy]

I

Winter is white on turf and tree,
And birds are fled;
But summer songsters pipe to me,
And petals spread,
For what I dreamt of secretly
His lips have said!

II

O 'tis a fine May morn, they say,
And blooms have blown;
But wild and wintry is my day,
My birds make moan;
For he who vowed leaves me to pay
Alone--alone!

[The end]
Thomas Hardy's poem: Seasons Of Her Year

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