Now in the dark of February rains, <br />Poor lovers of the sunshine, spring is born, <br />The earthy fields are full of hidden corn, <br />And March's violets bud along the lanes; <br /> <br />Therefore with joy believe in what remains. <br />And thou who dost not feel them, do not scorn <br />Our early songs for winter overworn, <br />And faith in God's handwriting on the plains. <br /> <br />'Hope' writes he, 'Love' in the first violet, <br />'Joy,' even from Heaven, in songs and winds and trees; <br />And having caught the happy words in these <br />While Nature labours with the letters yet, <br />Spring cannot cheat us, though her <br />hopes <br />be broken, <br />Nor leave us, for we know what God hath spoken.<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-february-2/
