The Winter Robin

Now is that sad time of year

When no flower or leaf is here;

When in misty Southern ways

Oriole and jay have flown,

And of all sweet birds, alone

The robin stays.

So give thanks at Christmas-tide;

Hopes of springtime yet abide!

See, in spite of darksome days,

Wind and rain and bitter chill,

Snow, and sleet-hung branches, still

The robin stays!