Monday, January 13, 2014


There, pillowed ‘neath the wooing wind
Fair spring has spread her floral dress
And we, hungry for her caress
Leave winter-weary woes behind

The dreamer of a thousand dreams
Is enticed to forsake his lust
Of garbled this and that; this dust
Is sweeter than thought’s phantom streams

The tyrant that growled grimly by
Our door in vexatious dissent
Has left his shivering lament
To amble from a bluer sky

And dimly now we might recall
The cut-throat gale and ice-travail
But we are drunk on perfumed ale
Of apple-bloom and lilac-shawl

While pillowed on a wooing cot
Of grass-whisper ‘neath new-born leaf
The weariness of winter-grief
Slumbers in cradles long-forgot

© Janet Martin

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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!