The Beginning Of Winter.
Now are the trees all ruefully bereft Of their brave liveries of green and gold, No shred of all their pleasant raiment left To shield them from the wind and nipping cold. Now is the grass all withered up and dead, And shrouded in its cerement of the snow; Now the enfeebled Sun goes soon to bed, And rises late and carries his head low. Now is the night magnificent to view When the Queen Moon appears with cloudless brow; Now are our spirits cleans'd and born anew In the clear, quickening atmosphere; and now We re-make home, and find our hearts' desire In common talk before the cheerful fire.
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"Now are the trees all ruefully bereft..."
W. M. MacKeracher's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Beginning Of Winter."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...