Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone

  Not meagre, latent boughs alone, O songs! (scaly and bare, like
      eagles talons,)
  But haply for some sunny day (who knows?) some future spring, some
      summer--bursting forth,
  To verdant leaves, or sheltering shade--to nourishing fruit,
  Apples and grapes--the stalwart limbs of trees emerging--the fresh,
      free, open air,
  And love and faith, like scented roses blooming.