It's not the spring season yet the winter-ending snow still falls though in slow and weak tiny droplets each like a gentle reminder nature has its own course to follow (there's no cause for rush winter's story is not over)--
the night somehow seems longer, and weaker are the moon and stars- the leaves they quiver and the trees by the deserted shore by the winds are tossed forward and backward frantically to and fro while the tides they intermittently roar-
the heart is restless and anxious in waiting--each moment seems longer than years, so cruel and vexatious but patience and faith is tested and called for-
love should not question it must stay strong whatever the season however sad its drawn-out song-
amidst life's turbulent throng the heart should rest steadfast love should overcome every storm through all episodes of tears outlast-
but the time shall come when winter its last leaves will have been cast the grass will revive flowers will begin to bud branches will stretch out in vigour to reach the sun frost will melt away from the stream which will rush to welcome thirsty birds around all nature will be a-flush with the brightness of light and colour with warm- spreading glades and dance with the musical sound of life born anew--all in consonance with the heart blessed in contentment-
the time has come spring has blossomed love has waited but such glory it has won.