 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
61
A WINTER MORNING IDYL
Haunting the darkness everywhere,
The snow has clothed the moonless air
Through the long hush of night;
And now with morn the woodlands thrill:
Their solitude how bright! how still!—
The valley 's blind with light!
The snow has clothed the moonless air
Through the long hush of night;
And now with morn the woodlands thrill:
Their solitude how bright! how still!—
The valley 's blind with light!
Warm sunshine through our window sees
Illumined towers, illumined trees,
That melt in silver gleams,
Where the weird Artist of the Night,
To give yon child a new delight,
Had tried to paint its dreams!
Illumined towers, illumined trees,
That melt in silver gleams,
Where the weird Artist of the Night,
To give yon child a new delight,
Had tried to paint its dreams!
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The trees with dropping sparkles glisten
Beside our door; and—see them! listen!
A score of boys, aglow,
Quick-blooded, full of buoyant life,
Mingle, knee-deep, in merry strife—
Mock-battles with the snow!
Beside our door; and—see them! listen!
A score of boys, aglow,
Quick-blooded, full of buoyant life,
Mingle, knee-deep, in merry strife—
Mock-battles with the snow!
Warming old Winter with their joy,
What shouts! what laughter! Yonder boy,
A champion lithe and tall,
Compels his corps with instant will—
An avalanche charge! But, massed and still,
These neither fly nor fall!
What shouts! what laughter! Yonder boy,
A champion lithe and tall,
Compels his corps with instant will—
An avalanche charge! But, massed and still,
These neither fly nor fall!
One little rogue, so cunning-shy,
Half-blinds the big boy's laughing eye;
With quick-averted face
Another throws—a cap is flying;
To 'scape the snow-ball, this one trying
Slips in soon-past disgrace!
Half-blinds the big boy's laughing eye;
With quick-averted face
Another throws—a cap is flying;
To 'scape the snow-ball, this one trying
Slips in soon-past disgrace!
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... Who, smiling, watches eager there?
A grey-beard—hoar-frost in his hair,
But flower-warmth in his heart—
At yonder window, peering through,
Joins in the joyous battle too,
His boyhood taking part!
A grey-beard—hoar-frost in his hair,
But flower-warmth in his heart—
At yonder window, peering through,
Joins in the joyous battle too,
His boyhood taking part!
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