All day between high-curded clouds the sun <br />Shone down like summer on the steaming planks. <br />The long, bright icicles in dwindling ranks <br />Dripped from the murmuring eaves till one by one <br />They fell. As if the spring had now begun, <br />The quilted snow, sun-softened to the core, <br />Loosened and shunted with a sudden roar <br />From downward roofs. Not even with day done <br />Had ceased the sound of waters, but all night <br />I heard it. In my dreams forgetfully bright <br />Methought I wandered in the April woods, <br />Where many a silver-piping sparrow was, <br />By gurgling brooks and spouting solitudes, <br />And stooped, and laughed, and plucked hepaticas.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-break-2/
