The Sleeping Spring

where sleeps the gone spring
now that young winter’s here
is she in her nest a-dreaming
lost to waking for the year,
and does she dream of buds anew
sprouting from the restful cold
and of each flower that once grew
in bright new times of old,
or do her reveries contain
no memories of the past
but are the shadows to refrain
her final days now cast.

Give Me To Pine Shadows

oh give to me pine shadows
to guard me from the flames
that lap my flesh from tarmacadam
in the lands we’ve tamed
oh bury me in graven glades
away from other men
and let the forest comfort me
til’ autumn flies again
and decks the land in golden snows
to cool me when I sleep
but for now give me pine shadows
for dreams of woodlands deep