Sunday, January 28, 2007
Winter: Your Secret (Christina Georgina Rosetti)
You tell your secret? No, indeed not you;
Perhaps some day, you may?
But not today; its not May nor gay; no, nay…
And you’re too careful: true!
I want to hear it! Tell!
Only, your secret’s yours, and you won’t spell.
Surely, considering all, there’s some:
There must be some secret; after all,
Not only just a pun?
Today’s a wheezing day, a whooping day;
In which one needs a hat,
A scarf, a coat and other knits:
Will you not ope to one who pleads?
Out here the cold come whooshing thro' me raw
Come biting and chilling me,
Come beating, killing me….
Stinging and piercing thro' my coat and more.
I have no mask for warmth: who never feels
The pains from winter’s chill
Pricked even when the winds are still?
You never meant to prick? I thank you in relief.
I believe, help my unbelief
Spring’s an exquisite time: yet you don’t trust
March with its long dusk,
Nor April with its budding sweet showers,
Nor even May, when earth’s dullness
One bud may soon brighten with the sunlit hours.
I pray some splendid summer day,
When sprightly birds begin to rest
And golden fruits are at their best
If there’s just enough sun and enough shade
And the cool breeze is neither too soft nor great
I Pray! Your secret you will tell
For I won’t press.