Author William Watson When birds were songless on the bough I heard thee sing. The world was full of winter, thou Wert full of spring. To-day the world's heart feels anew The vernal thrill, And thine beneath the rueful yew Is wintry chill. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments