Bland as the morning breath of June <br />The southwest breezes play; <br />And, through its haze, the winter noon <br />Seems warm as summer's day. <br />The snow-plumed Angel of the North <br />Has dropped his icy spear; <br />Again the mossy earth looks forth, <br />Again the streams gush clear. <br /> <br />The fox his hillside cell forsakes, <br />The muskrat leaves his nook, <br />The bluebird in the meadow brakes <br />Is singing with the brook. <br />'Bear up, O Mother Nature!' cry <br />Bird, breeze, and streamlet free; <br />'Our winter voices prophesy <br />Of summer days to thee!' <br /> <br />So, in those winters of the soul, <br />By bitter blasts and drear <br />O'erswept from Memory's frozen pole, <br />Will sunny days appear. <br />Reviving Hope and Faith, they show <br />The soul its living powers, <br />And how beneath the winter's snow <br />Lie germs of summer flowers! <br /> <br />The Night is mother of the Day, <br />The Winter of the Spring, <br />And ever upon old Decay <br />The greenest mosses cling. <br />Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, <br />Through showers the sunbeams fall; <br />For God, who loveth all His works, <br />Has left His hope with all!<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-of-summer/
