Not meagre, latent boughs alone, O songs! (scaly and bare, like eagles’ talons,)
But haply for some sunny day (who knows?) some future spring, some summer — bursting forth,
To verdant leaves, or sheltering shade — to nourishing fruit,
Apples and grapes — the stalwart limbs of trees emerging — the fresh, free, open air,
And love and faith, like scented roses blooming.