She comes in the silver between- A ruffle of boughs the north wind brings; Ember of dawn, alit to be seen, Tinkles ice with her whisp'ring wings. Beneath the settling moon hung low; The lilt of song from a brighter time When through the wood sprang life aglow, Thrice-told in a chirruping rhyme. And in those vibrant days we'll dance, The robin and I on velvet dew- A madcap's reel of happenstance, And drink from the firethorn brew.