January Thaw

There was rain in the night, a dull delivering rain

That washed the air of sparkle and hard blue gleam,

And bent the frozen grasses in the meadow,

And loosed the stream.

Now is talk and laughter of running water,

Light imperious talk of water freed.

Indolent winds stray through the winter meadow,

Winter indeed!

Everyone knows that death is a season only.

Though laughter is hushed again, and tempests shout,

It is not long till fire runs in the maples

And ice goes out.