Winter Carolers

The old Black Willow is a singing harp

With blackbirds strumming on its fragile strings.

December's moaning winds are drear and sharp

Yet symphonies bring cheer that echoing rings

On frosty air. I love these carolers

That make a lilting spring of winter days:

A hopeful prophecy; each throat avers

That life is sleeping. August sunset-rays

In spread wings give the joy of warning skies.

I love these melodies! They bring to me

My childhood hours, my father's youthful eyes.

He loved them as I do. In memory

We listen to their songs. He often said,

"These warblers bring us hope when spring has fled."