Bleak Weather
Poem By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Dear love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew,
The white snows are falling;
And all through the wood, where I wandered with you,
The loud winds are calling;
And the robin that piped to us tune upon tune,
Neath the elm—you remember,
Over tree-top and mountain has followed the June,
And left us—December.
Patrick slowly packs the picnic gear. He hears Emma running and laughing nearby, but sits frozen,
lost in the bleak darkness of his grief. The red and green of the blanket bleeds together as
weariness drops it from his hands. It puddles at his feet, a woolen shroud of blood red. With
glazed eyes he stumbles, falling back against a nearby elm.
Has left, like a friend that is true in the sun,
And false in the shadows.
He has found new delights, in the land where he's gone,
Greener woodlands and meadows.
What care we? let him go! let the snow shroud the lea,
Let it drift on the heather!
We can sing through it all; I have you—you have me,
And we'll laugh at the weather.
A light touch brushes along Patrick's arm. His eyes follow the delicate fingers up the strong and
slight arm, landing on his beloved's face. She smiles at him and says, "Here Daddy this is for you." A
red lily is clasped carefully in her outspread hand. "It's beautiful honey." He reaches out and she hands him the
delicate red flower. "It's from Mommy." In pain he gasps, "What do you mean?" She points at the bed of
lilies and moves her hand up towards the robin perched upon a low hanging branch. "Grandma says that every time a
robin sings, it's Mommy saying she loves us."
The old year may die, and a new one be born
That is bleaker and colder;
But it cannot dismay us; we dare it—we scorn,
For love makes us bolder.
Ah Robin! sing loud on the far-distant lea,
Thou friend in fair weather;
But here is a song sung, that's fuller of glee,
By two warm hearts together.
Patrick tickles Emma's nose with the lily making her giggle. She runs laughing from him. "Come play hide and
seek with me?" He sits a moment longer looking back and forth between the robin and his lily. The robin
chirps at him, almost taunting him. He scowls at it, it responds with a gleeful tune. He allows a moment of
contentedness to shine a quiet light into the bleakness of his soul. It gives him the strength to get up and run
laughing to keep up with Emma, so full of life.
