Songs of the Sea Children

by Bliss Carman


 

CXI


 

Now all the twigs and grasses
Are feathery with snow; 
The land is white and level, 
The brooks have ceased to flow.

No song is in the woodland, 

5

There is no light of sun, 
But bright and warm and tender 
Is my sweetheart, Yvonne.

The lower hills are purple,
The farther peaks are lost;

10
There's nothing left alive now,
Except the bitter frost.

Yes, two there be that heed not
How cold the year may run: 
The fire upon the hearthstone, 

15
And my sweetheart, Yvonne.