There is still abundant living goodness
in the frigid heavens and under-deeps,
in the ranging wilds in their winter-peace
where tree-columned woodland halls
are filled with the music of laughing streams
that sparkle and dance despite the chill,
where hopes for a bright and blessed spring
are seen on the fingertips of thawing trees:
tiny leaf-buds still bundled tight
yet ready to shed their winter-coats,
to emerge and ripen in the golden light,
and to kindle an emerald-fire to gleam.
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