Explore "Winter" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
HOLD your hands to the blaze; / Winter is here / With the short cold days, / Bleak, keen and drear.
Was there ever a day / With hawthorn along the way / Where you wandered in mild mid-May / With your dear?
That was when you were young / And the world was gold; / Now all the songs are sung, / The tales all told.
You shiver now by the fire / Where the last red sparks expire; / Dead are delight and desire: / You are old.