Poem by Katharine Tynan

Turn o' the Year

This is the time when bit by bit
The days begin to lengthen sweet
And every minute gained is joy -
And love stirs in the heart of a boy.

This is the time the sun, of late
Content to lie abed till eight,
Lifts up betimes his sleepy head -
And love stirs in the heart of a maid.

This is the time we dock the night
Of a whole hour of candlelight;
When song of linnet and thrush is heard -
And love stirs in the heart of a bird.

This is the time when sword-blades green,
With gold and purple damascene,
Pierce the brown crocus-bed a-row -
And love stirs in a heart I know.

1. Any Mother
2. 'Mid the Piteous Heaps of Dead
3. His Footstep
4. Unhousel'd, Unanointed, Unanel'd
5. The Convent Garden

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