WHEN WINTER COMES
The frost at night-time sallies from his tent,
And o’er the land his icy seed he sows,
That by the sun is eaten ‘fore it grows
To show the message that its master sent.
Upon one work the glowing sun is bent,
To kill the frost before the cold wind blows,
Or on the hearth the sizzling ash-log glows,
When all the turf are into ashes spent,
And many birds their precious tranquil songs
Have lost until the Spring. With joyous notes
The tattered robin sings on hungry days,
Though for a crumb he often looks and longs,
As eagerly he o’er the rubbish gloats
With beady eyes that shine in watery rays.
Arthur McCaughren Age 14