The Lilt of the Year
by Hazel Dell Crandall
A melancholy mantle rests
Upon the land, the sea.
The wind in tristful cadence moans
A mournful threnody.
There flits no gleeful insect,
No blithesome bee nor bird;
Over all the vast of Nature
No joyful sound is heard.
In garments sere and somber
Each vine and tree is clad:
It's dreary-hearted winter,
And all the earth is sad.
As featured onThe Daily Gardener podcast:
Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
