Winter, the aged chief
A December Day
That's no December sky!
Surely 'tis June
Holds now her state on high
Queen of the noon.
Only the tree-tops bare
Crowning the hill,
Clear-cut in perfect air,
Warn us that still
Winter, the aged chief,
Mighty in power,
Exiles the tender leaf,
Exiles the flower.
- Robert Fuller Murray
Labels: poetry
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