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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374028" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>February</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374028" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THE trees stand brown against the gray, <br>The shivering gray of field and sky; <br>The mists wrapt round the dying day <br>The shroud poor days wear as they die: <br>Poor day, die soon, who lived in vain, <br>Who could not bring my Love again! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374028" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Down in the garden breezes cold <br>Dead rustling stalks blow chill between; <br>Only, above the sodden mould, <br>The wallflower wears his heartless green <br>As though still reigned the rose-crowned year <br>And summer and my Love were here. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374028" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>The mists creep close about the house, <br>The empty house, all still and chill; <br>The desolate and trembling boughs <br>Scratch at the dripping window sill: <br>Poor day lies drowned in floods of rain, <br>And ghosts knock at the window pane.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edith+Nesbit">Edith Nesbit</a></strong></div>

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