How Drear Poem by Daphne Grant

How miserable the world in winter seems
Dark drear, the meadows near the stream.
I see the tree from my window there
Starkley dripping; strakley bare.
The music in my heart stands still,
Waiting for the signs of spring,
When I will hear the love birds trill
In the pheonix air.

This is all November has to offer,
In should like the hedgehog sleep,
and wake to find it spring
Already sprung from winter's deep.

Remembered summer sun,
Still beckons to retreats from last year's havens
Down at Milford the sea still roars,
Louder now, with winter gales,
And o'er my balmy cliffs do reign
The unkind wind and torrential rain.