Nature
Over the winter eaves
From The Poets and the Poetry of the Century, ed. Alfred H. Miles
Nature
Over the winter eaves
The bare boughs clamber and swing-
Through a rustle of withered leaves
I hear the voice of the Spring.
Year after year departs
On pitiless, whirling wing,
But yet, in my heart of hearts,
I feel the touch of the Spring.
Who knows? when in graveyard drear,
I lie, and the throstles sing,
I may still awake with the year,
Still hear the voice of the Spring.
Cite this poem
MLA
Westwood, Thomas. “Over the winter eaves.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/westwood/0/.
Chicago
Westwood, Thomas. “Over the winter eaves.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/westwood/0/.
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