• On river-shore in Hadaron
    There grows a willow, tall and fair,
    Where laughing brook goes dancing on
    The precipice of autumn.
    The frost’s cold touch not in the air,
    The summer sun’s heat not yet wan,
    Where Willow dipped her trailing hair
    In starlight’s streams and caught them.

    The moon gave Willow moonlit flesh
    As white as deep, newfallen snow.
    The stars her crown did make her nest
    As many as they darest.
    The sun made golden hair to glow
    Where jeweled crown of leaves did rest.
    All creatures round her sing to show
    That Willow is the fairest.

    Then winter dawned; the east winds blew
    And with them came the snow and cold.
    The icy blast made frost from dew
    And froze the river’s borders.
    The voice of Winter, loud and bold,
    Called out to Willow: “You think you
    Are special? Your hair may be gold,
    But you will heed my orders.”

    So Winter’s winds took Willow’s jewels
    And cut her hair and scarred her face
    And Willow saw in River’s pool
    Her wounds would not be mended.
    She wept for what she’d lost; her grace
    And beauty. In the water cool
    Fell Willow’s tears, a shining lace
    Of fairness long since ended.

    The river shore, upon whom fell
    Her tears, asked, “Why does Willow weep?
    You are the fairest, like a bell
    Of silver, struck but singly.
    Wait for spring, when Winter sleeps –
    Your hair will grow, all will be well,
    And you shall look into my deeps
    And see yourself as kingly.”

    So Willow waited for the spring
    When Winter left reluctantly –
    The birds began to take to wing
    And things began to grow.
    The winter stayed with willow-tree
    But Willow’s silver bell still rings,
    And at her feet grew grass so green
    Beneath the ice and snow.

    Winter heard from Willow’s ice
    That River cheered her when she lost
    Her beauty. “As a sacrifice,”
    Thought Winter. “Now, for punishment.”
    So Winter took the willow’s frost
    And turned the river’s source to ice.
    The river dried; the payment, cost
    Of defying Winter’s judgment.

    How Willow wept! She loved the river,
    How he laughed beneath her shade.
    She gave her beauty back to Winter
    So River could laugh again.
    Winter refused the willow’s trade –
    Yet at the willow’s feet and under
    Ice, and though her beauty fades,
    The grass shall still grow green.