Intimation

All night I smiled as I slept, For I heard the March-wind feel Blindly about in the trees without For buds to heal.

All night in dreams, for I smelt, In the rain-wet woods and fields, The coming flowers and the glad green hours That summer yields.

All night--and when at dawn I woke with the blue-bird's cheep, Winter with all its chill and pall Seemed but a sleep.