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When Nature crouches from the biting air,
And even thought is paralyzed by winter,
I feel my spirit is not anywhere,
And Heaven too far to enter.


But summer comes with flocks of woolly clouds,
And rainbows, sunny showers, and wing├Ęd shadows,
And mazy hedgerows, and green-mantled woods,
And honey-scented meadows;


The mingled breath of flowers, the choral strain
That thrills the air and shames our petty sadness;
The sweet abundance, the receptive brain,
The almost Heavenly gladness:


A resurrection in the earth and sky,
And winter's ills forgotten and forgiven,--
Ah, then, I feel we only need to die
To be at once in Heaven!