A Calendar of Sonnets by Helen Hunt Jackson

Lyrics

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white; And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still; No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill And willow stems grow daily red and bright These are days when ancients held a rite Of expiation for the old year's ill And prayer to purify the new year's will: Fit days, ere yet the spring rains blur the sight Ere yet the bounding blood grows hot with haste And dreaming thoughts grow heavy with a greed The ardеnt summer's joy to have and taste; Fit days, to givе to last year's losses heed To recon clear the new life's sterner need; Fit days, for Feast of Expiation placed!