Thus in the Winter

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by

One

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before

I cannot say what loves have come and gone

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more

But the rain is full of ghosts tonight

That tap and sigh upon the glass

And listen for reply

And in my heart there stirs a pain

For unremembered birds again

That will not wake at midnight with a cry