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The adopted daughter

and other tales
  
  
  
  

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WINTER.
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WINTER.

BY MRS. N. ORR.

Gentle as an infant's breathing
Falls the feathery footed snow,
Shrouding with its fleecy lightness
All the dreary waste below.
Trees now shorn of dewy leaflets,
Flowers shrinking from the storm,
Fold their young and glowing petals
Till the summer sun is warm.

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Page 339
Hushed the glee of bird and insect,
Folded is the Iris wing,
Woodland bowers, dark and dreary,
May not with their music ring.
Hark! the storm-king shrilly whistles
Through the cold and frosty sky,
While the north wind's lofty cadence
In a freezing blast reply.
Winter, thou art cold and cheerless,
Joyless though the crackling fire
Glowing with its ruddy brightness,
Many a cheerful song inspire.
To the poor thou bringest sorrow
Creeping through the broken wall,
Sending snow-flakes on cold pinions
Through the dark and crumbling hall.
Flickers now the failing rush-light,
Dies the embers ruddy glow,
And the poor half famished children
To their scanty pallet go.
Winter, thou indeed art cheerless,
Though thy drapery is bright,
Quickly pass, and let the spring time
Come with warmth and flowers bedight.