The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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I.

The sky has turned its heart away,

The earth its sorrow found;

The daisies turn from childhood's play,

And creep into the ground.

The earth is black and cold and hard;

Thin films of dry white ice,

Across the rugged wheel-tracks barred,

The children's feet entice.

Dark flows the stream, as if it mourned

The winter in the land;

With idle icicles adorned,

That mill-wheel soon will stand.

But, friends, to say 'tis cold, and part,

Is to let in the cold;

We'll make a summer of the heart,

And laugh at winter old.

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