letra de february by edith nesbit - ghizela rowe
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the trees stand brown against the gray
the shivering gray of field and sky;
the mists wrapt round the dying day
the shroud poor days wear as they die:
poor day, die soon, who lived in vain
who could not bring my love again!
down in the garden breezes cold
dead rustling stalks blow chill between;
only, above the sodden mould
the wallflower wears his heartless green
as though still reigned the rose-crowned year
and summer and my love were here
the mists creep close about the house
the empty house, all still and chill;
the desolate and trembling boughs
scratch at the dripping window sill:
poor day lies drowned in floods of rain
and ghosts knock at the window pane
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