Six Months Ago

Six months ago, and what thing is the same?
Here in this garden, where the sweet June day
Sank into sleep, while starry stillness lay
Like peace on all, last night the winter came,
With stormy winds made strong to smite and maim
The well-loved trees, whose boughs, now bare and gray,
Toss helplessly from side to side and pray
Once more to feel the summer's touch of flame, —

Six months ago, when, half afraid, I said,
"Can God's heart be relenting? Ere I go
Shall even I stand face to face with bliss?"
Now all the meaning of that hope I know:
My soul, since consciousness but sorrow is,
I would, O soul, thou wert asleep, or dead.