When birds were songless on the bough
I heard thee sing.
The world was full of winter, thou
Wert full of spring.
To-day the world's heart feels anew
The vernal thrill,
And thine beneath the rueful yew
Is wintry chill.
More verses by William Watson
- Lines (With A Volume Of The Author's Poems Sent To M.R.C.)
- Thomas Hood
- To Lord Tennyson
- The Turk In Armenia
- The Soudanese