Snow may linger in the corners
Of a sheltered nook;
Ice may fringe the shaded places
On the banks of pond and brook.
Cold my be the wind that's blowing,
Pale the sunshine, gray the sky,
But winter-weary mankind's certain
Spring is drawing very nigh.
For someone saw a willow branch
Trimmed with furry gray;
Someone saw green sprouts thrust upward
Where snow lay yesterday.
Someone saw a robin redbreast,
Someone heard him sing...
Welcome signs and certain portents
When winter turns to spring.
(Virginia Moore)

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