MIDNIGHT
`` Now , if you can remember it , '' said Helen . `` Can you ? '' `` If you wish it , '' said Arthur , simply ; `` I wrote it two or three months ago , when the country was different from now . '' He fumbled in his pocket for some papers , and then in a low tone he read these words to the girl : AT MIDNIGHT The burden of the winter The year haa borne too long , And oh , my heart is weary For a springtime song ! The moonbeams shrink unwelcomed From the frozen lake ; Of all the forest voices There is but one awake I seek thee , happy streamlet That murmurest on thy way , As a child in troubled slumber Still dreaming of its play ; I ask thee where in thy journey Thou seeest so fair a sight , That thou hast joy and singing All through the winter night . Helen was silent for a few moments , then she said , `` I think that is beautiful , Arthur ; but it is not what I want . '' `` Why not ? ''