Fair Maids of February

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Deep sleeps the Winter, cold wet and grey;

Surely all the world is dead; Spring is far away.

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Wait ! The world shall waken; it is not dead, for lo,

The Fair Maids of February stand in the snow!

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Now with tender pencilled cup,

And with triple wings of white,

Snowdrop-maidens flutter up,

Wakened from the winter's night.

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Now the birch with ruddier rind,

Hears the tit call to his fellow;

February's gentle wind,

Turns the happy larches yellow. **

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Sunday, 21st of February. Great Missenden. England.

** A February Song - H. D. Rawnsley

Note: All the pictures will enlarge (by a left click on them).

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