Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dip down upon the northern
O sweet new-year delaying long;
Thou doest expectant nature
Delaying long, delay no more.
What stays thee from the clouded noons,
Thy sweetness from its proper place?
Can trouble live with April
Or sadness in the summer moons?
, bring the foxglove spire
The little speedwell
’s darling blue,
dash’d with fiery dew,
s, dropping-wells of fire.
O thou, new-year, delaying long,
Delayest the sorrow
in my blood
That longs to burst a frozen bud
And flood a fresher throat with song