Waiting

 Waiting

In the woods I walked to-day;

The snow was deep and white,

It covered all the tiny flowers,

It hid the ferns from sight.

I hunted for the little brook

That sang in summer days,

But not an echo of its song

Rang through the woodland ways.

At last I found the fettered stream

And broke the ice so clear,

And heard the tinkling water say, 

"I'm hidden, but I'm here."