Today I opened wide my eyes,
And stared with wonder and surprise,
To see beneath November skies
An apple blossom peer;
Upon a branch as bleak as night
It gleamed exultant on my sight,
A fairy beacon burning bright
Of hope and cheer.
‘Alas! ‘ said I, ‘poor foolish thing,
Have you mistaken this for Spring?
Behold, the thrush has taken wing,
And Winter’s near.’
Serene it seemed to lift its head:
‘The Winter’s wrath I do not dread,
Because I am,’ it proudly said,
‘A Pioneer.
‘Some apple blossom must be first,
With beauty’s urgency to burst
Into a world for joy athirst,
And so I dare;
And I shall see what none shall see –
December skies gloom over me,
And mock them with my April glee,
And fearless fare.
‘And I shall hear what none shall hear –
The hardy robin piping clear,
The Storm King gallop dark and drear
Across the sky;
And I shall know what none shall know –
The silent kisses of the snow,
The Christmas candles’ silver glow,
Before I die.
‘Then from your frost-gemmed window pane
One morning you will look in vain,
My smile of delicate disdain
No more to see;
But though I pass before my time,
And perish in the grale and grime,
Maybe you’ll have a little rhyme
To spare for me.’
