Calendar of Sonnets (Version 2) — February

February.

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;

And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;

No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill, And willow stems grow daily red and bright.

These are the days when ancients held a rite Of expiation for the old year's ill, And prayer to purify the new year's will: Fit days, ere yet the spring rains blur the sight, Ere yet the bounding blood grows hot with haste, And dreaming thoughts grow heavy with a greed The ardent summer's joy to have and taste;

Fit days, to give to last year's losses heed, To reckon clear the new life's sterner need;

Fit days, for Feast of Expiation placed!