Claude McKay


To Winter


Stay, season of calm love and soulful snows! 
There is a subtle sweetness in the sun, 
The ripples on the streamís breast gaily run, 
The wind more boisterously by me blows, 
And each succeeding day now longer grows. 
The birds a gladder music have begun, 
The squirrel, full of mischief and of fun, 
From maplesí topmost branch the brown twig throws. 
I read these pregnant signs, know what they mean: 
I know that thou art making ready to go. 
Oh stay! I fled a land where fields are green 
Always, and palms wave gently to and fro, 
And winds are balmy, blue brooks ever sheen, 
To ease my heart of its impassioned woe.






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