A January Day Poem by Arthur Weir

King Winter sleeps. His daughter, Spring,
His sceptre steals away,
And, laughing, bids fair Nature bring
For once a perfect day.

Bright glows the sun in azure skies,
And balmy blows the breeze,
On gayer wing the sparrow flies,
And softly sway the trees.

The seasons run like some great stream
That to the ocean flows,
The waves that _here_ in sunshine gleam
Bound _there_ in mountain snows:

And, as where darkling waters steal,
Drear walls of rock between,
Yet in their depths a gem reveal
That glows with sunny sheen.

So in this blustering month that bears
The banner of the year,
Such days as this with balmy airs
Amid the storms appear.

It is but meet that thy birthday
Should open bright and warm,
And into darkness fade away
Without a cloud or storm.