 | Hagar |  |
WHAT THE SNOW SAID TO THE EARTH.
Poor Mother Earth! I pity thee,Thou art no longer fair,
The glory's vanished from the tree,
And all thy fields are bare.
The little birds that sang to thee
Through happy summer days,
In other lands, as gay and free,
They sing their lovely lays.
The flowers that crowned and covered thee
With glory like the sun,
The Frost-King touched them, speedily
They perished, one by one.
The cold North wind sweeps over thee,
And blows his trumpet clear
In every pine; loud singeth he,
“I ride without a peer.”
O Mother Earth! I pity thee;
I strive thy wounds to hide;
Upon thy breast so tenderly
I spread my white wings wide.
From chilling blasts I shelter thee
With my soft wings of love;
I give my all—my life—to be
Exhaled in clouds above.
| Hagar | |