Edith Nesbit (Эдит Несбит)

February

THE trees stand brown against the gray,
The shivering gray of field and sky;
The mists wrapt round the dying day
The shroud poor days wear as they die:
Poor day, die soon, who lived in vain,
Who could not bring my Love again!


Down in the garden breezes cold
Dead rustling stalks blow chill between;
Only, above the sodden mould,
The wallflower wears his heartless green
As though still reigned the rose-crowned year
And summer and my Love were here.


The mists creep close about the house,
The empty house, all still and chill;
The desolate and trembling boughs
Scratch at the dripping window sill:
Poor day lies drowned in floods of rain,
And ghosts knock at the window pane. 

1. The Stolen God
2. Philosophy
3. The December Rose
4. The Fire
5. Incompatibilities

Louisa Bevington (Луиза Бевингтон) February ("NOW are the days of greyness and of gloom")

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