Winter Streams
Now the little rivers go
Muffled safely under snow,
And the winding meadow streams
Murmur in their wintry dreams,
While a tinkling music wells
Faintly from their icy bells
Telling how their hearts are bold,
Though the very sun be cold.
Ah, but wait until the rain
Comes a-sighing once again,
Sweeping softly from the Sound
Over the ridge and meadow ground!
Then the little streams will hear
April calling far and near,
Lip their snowy bands and run
Sparkling in the welcome sun!
--Bliss Carmen
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