The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.
Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.
The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o’er the plain;
While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.
The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;
Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.
This poem is about the end of life, what dying feels like. February feels like that. It may be the shortest month of the year but feels like the longest because it is dark and dreary and we can slide into its despair. But, we know that just like February feels like the end of life it is a precursor to new life. We do not yet see it, but we know it. As Christians, we know there is life beyond death, but without faith, dying feels like February, the end of all life.
I think it means that February is when all the thingd come back to life
I think this poem means that February is the best month of the year.