song (thing)

I

In a drear-nighted December,
   Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
   Their green felicity :
  The north cannot undo them,
  With a sleety whistle through them ;
  Nor frozen thawings glue them
    From budding at the prime.

II

In a drear-nighted December,
   Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
   Apollo's summer look ;
  But with a sweet forgetting,
  They stay their crystal fretting
  Never, never petting
     About the frozen time.

III

Ah ! Would 'twere so with many
   A gentle girl and boy !
But were there ever any
   Writh'd not at passed joy ?
  To know the change and feel it,
  When there is none to heal it,
  Nor numbed sense to steel it,
    Was never said in rhyme.