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SYMPHONY
My
spirit
was
benumbed
by
winter's
chill,
with
glacial
pendants
hanging
round
my
soul;
no
greening
boughs
with
which
my
eyes
to
fill,
no
flowered
paths
along
the
way
to
stroll.
Its
brumal
breath
found
home
within
my
breast
and
blew
against
the
countenance
of
hope;
it
lingered
long
to
rob
me
of
my
zest;
I
languished
low
and
lay
abed
to
mope.
I
heard
the
tiptoe
of
a
gentle
spring,
like
steps
upon
a
hidden
carpet
path,
and
soon
all
nature
lent
her
voice
to
sing
a
grand
finale
to
harsh
winter's
wrath.
At
last
the
dreary
days
that
fettered
me
were
vanquished
by
spring's
lilting
symphony.
Copyright
©
2000
Ruth
Gillis
Previously
published
in
the
Summer
2000
issue
of
Bell's
Letters
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