Below these empty trees of the cold’s past
Lay fields of white snow so pure and gallant.
Through the bare limbs above the sun may cast
To soften the ground to make vibrant.
Oh, these eager trees will remain patient,
So spring may warm the brittle winter air.
The snow may drip, but shall not be vacant!
For the spring’s first flower will blossom there.
Then the trees leaf out to shade and to care
The snowdrops reach above in jubilance,
And fill the barren land in supple fair
To flow and sway in dancelike unison.
Yet, without the cold none of this could be
What the winter gave and the spring set free.