The withering wind blows clean from the Pole
But unable the sunlight to trounce,
The Spring, once again will make us whole
As shivering crocuses announce;
And, although we wrap warm and huddle in groups
We feel the change in the air
Although we drink hot coffee and soups
We can feel that it is there;
A lifting of mood, a sensing of hope
A feeling that good days are near
A reassurance that we can finally cope
And banish the Winter's fear;
And all that is left of times that have gone
Is a darkened memory of gloom
For even with his hat and coat on
Spring has joined us in the room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem