| I leant upon a coppice gate | |
| When Frost was spectre-gray, | |
| And Winter's dregs made desolate | |
| The weakening eye of day. | |
| The tangled bine-stems scored the sky | 5 |
| Like strings of broken lyres, | |
| And all mankind that haunted nigh | |
| Had sought their household fires. | |
| |
| The land's sharp features seemed to be | |
| The Century's corpse outleant, | 10 |
| His crypt the cloudy canopy, | |
| The wind his death-lament. | |
| The ancient pulse of germ and birth | |
| Was shrunken hard and dry, | |
| And every spirit upon earth | 15 |
| Seemed fervourless as I. | |
| |
| At once a voice arose among | |
| The bleak twigs overhead | |
| In a full-hearted evensong | |
| Of joy illimited; | 20 |
| An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, | |
| In blast-beruffled plume, | |
| Had chosen thus to fling his soul | |
| Upon the growing gloom. | |
| |
| So little cause for carolings | 25 |
| Of such ecstatic sound | |
| Was written on terrestrial things | |
| Afar or nigh around, | |
| That I could think there trembled through | |
| His happy good-night air | 30 |
| Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew | |
| And I was unaware. | |