Poem by Madison Julius Cawein

A Song in Season

I.

When in the wind the vane turns round,
     And round, and round;
And in his kennel whines the hound;
When all the gable eaves are bound
With icicles of ragged gray,
     A glinting gray;
There is little to do, and much to say,
And you hug your fire and pass the day
With a thought of the springtime, dearie.


II.

When late at night the owlet hoots,
     And hoots, and hoots;
And wild winds make of keyholes flutes;
When to the door the goodman's boots
Stamp through the snow the light stains red,
     The fire-light's red;
There is nothing to do, and all is said,
And you quaff your cider and go to bed
With a dream of the summer, dearie.


III.

When, nearing dawn, the black cock crows,
     And crows, and crows;
And from the barn the milch-cow lows;
And the milkmaid's cheeks have each a rose,
And the still skies show a star or two,
     Or one or two;
There is little to say, and much to do,
And the heartier done the happier you,
With a song of the winter, dearie.

1. In the Mountains
2. The Iron Cross
3. Above the Vales
4. Zero
5. Communicants

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