A Year’s Windfalls Christina Rossetti

On the wind of January
         Down flits the snow,
Travelling from the frozen North
         As cold as it can blow.
Poor robin redbreast,
         Look where he comes;
Let him in to feel your fire,
         And toss him of your crumbs.

On the wind in February
         Snow-flakes float still,
Half inclined to turn to rain,
         Nipping, dripping, chill.
Then the thaws swell the streams,
         And swollen rivers swell the sea:--
If the winter ever ends
         How pleasant it will be.

In the wind of windy March
         The catkins drop down,
Curly, caterpillar-like,
         Curious green and brown.
With concourse of nest-building birds
         And leaf-buds by the way,
We begin to think of flowers
         And life and nuts some day.