Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Transformation

For works with similar titles, see Transformation.
TRANSFORMATION.
All day long the pitiless rain
Has beaten and dashed on each window-pane;
The rude wind swaying with might and main
   The sorrowful tree-tops bare.
And, watching, I saw the raindrops freeze
On the finger-tips of the tall birch trees,
As, white and stark, they outreach to tease
   Their neighbors, the cedars fair.

The stately pines, in a friendly group,
With their weight of pearly gems a-droop,
Flutter and dance like a merry troupe,
   While the wind-harps round them play.
And how, as the sun puts off his shroud,
And brightly shines through the riven cloud,
The snow-birds twitter and chirp aloud
   To frighten the shadows away.

The silvery leaves of the beeches seem
Just waking up from a long, sad dream,
To catch for a moment the fitful gleam
   Of warmth and color and light.
Clinging there like a jeweled crown,
They hide the branches, bare and brown,
Till the fierce winds batter and drive them down
   In the snow so cold and white.

The quivering grass and ferns caress
The Earth in her regal, spotless dress,
And whisper praise of her loveliness,
   Kissing her fair, dainty feet;
For Winter now, with his magical wand,
Has touched the dear little elfin band,
And lo! in ermine so rich and grand,
   They wait the sunshine to greet,

We hear the brooks and the rivers say,
"The Frost-king soon must yield his sway;
The sunshine our fetters will melt away."
   How sweet are these tokens to me!
Desolation and death shall not always reign;
The birds and the flowers will come again;
Our glorified spirits, from sorrow and pain
   Shall sometime and somewhere be free.