After The Winter

Some day, when bushes have shed their leaves
And towards the morning's white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night time,
We'll flip our faces southward, love,
toward the summer time isle
the place bamboos spire the shafted grove
And extensive-mouthed orchids smile.

And we will seek the quiet hill
where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
And works the droning bee.
And we will construct a cottage there
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing close,
And ferns that not ever fade.