At first you'll joy to see the playful snow, <br />Like white moths trembling on the tropic air, <br />Or waters of the hills that softly flow <br />Gracefully falling down a shining stair. <br /> <br />And when the fields and streets are covered white <br />And the wind-worried void is chilly, raw, <br />Or underneath a spell of heat and light <br />The cheerless frozen spots begin to thaw, <br /> <br />Like me you'll long for home, where birds' glad song <br />Means flowering lanes and leas and spaces dry, <br />And tender thoughts and feelings fine and strong, <br />Beneath a vivid silver-flecked blue sky. <br /> <br />But oh! more than the changeless southern isles, <br />When Spring has shed upon the earth her charm, <br />You'll love the Northland wreathed in golden smiles <br />By the miraculous sun turned glad and warm.<br /><br />Claude McKay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-one-coming-north/
