As when at twelve o'clock <br />Strong January opes the gates of Life <br />And we that were so cabined and so dark <br />Within the round tower of the rounded year <br />Feel the far Spring blown in on us and look <br />Straight to the primroses, and with the swallow <br />Skim thro' the dawns of daffodils and up <br />To bluebell skies, and from the bluebell skies, <br />Like a wild hawk upon a flight of doves, <br />Swoop upon June and Paradise, and on <br />Beyond the bounds of Eden to an Earth <br />Boss'd with great purples of new-clustered wine <br />Betwixt the tented harvests red and gold, <br />And so into a cloud, and know no more--<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/new-year-s-eve-19/
