LET Summer go <br />To other gardens; here we have no need of her. <br />She smiles and beckons, but we take no heed of her, <br />Who love not Summer, but bare boughs and snow, <br /> <br /> <br />Set the snow free <br />To choke the insolent triumph of the year, <br />With birds that sing as though he still were here, <br />And flowers that blow as if he still could see. <br /> <br /> <br />Let the rose die-- <br />What ailed the rose to blow? she is not dear to us, <br />Nor all the summer pageant that draws near to us; <br />Let it be over soon, let it go by! <br /> <br /> <br />Let winter come, <br />With the wild mourning of the wind-tossed boughs <br />To drown the stillness of the empty house <br />To which no more the little feet come home.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dirge-5/
