804
No Notice gave She, but a Change—
No Message, but a Sigh—
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.
She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime, the steady Frost
Upon Her Bosom piled—
Of shrinking ways—she did not fright
Though all the Village looked—
But held Her gravity aloft—
And met the gaze—direct—
And when adjusted like a Seed
In careful fitted Ground
Unto the Everlasting Spring
And hindered but a Mound
Her Warm return, if so she chose—
And We—imploring drew—
Removed our invitation by
As Some She never knew—
