 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
A WALK THROUGH THE SNOW.
I walked from our wild north country once,
In a driving storm of snow;
Forty and seven miles in a day—
You smile,—do you think it slow?
You would n't if ever you had ploughed
Through a storm like that, I trow.
In a driving storm of snow;
100
You smile,—do you think it slow?
You would n't if ever you had ploughed
Through a storm like that, I trow.
There was n't a cloud as big as my hand,
The summer before, in the sky;
The grass in th' meadows was ground to dust,
The springs and wells went dry;
We must have corn, and three stout men
Were picked to go and buy.
The summer before, in the sky;
The grass in th' meadows was ground to dust,
The springs and wells went dry;
We must have corn, and three stout men
Were picked to go and buy.
Well, I was one; two bags I swung
Across my shoulder, so!
And kissed my wife and boys,—their eyes
Were blind to see me go.
'T was a bitter day, and just as th' sun
Went down, we met the snow!
Across my shoulder, so!
And kissed my wife and boys,—their eyes
Were blind to see me go.
'T was a bitter day, and just as th' sun
Went down, we met the snow!
At first we whistled and laughed and sung,
Our blood so nimbly stirred;
But as the snow-clogs dragged at our feet,
And the air grew black and blurred,
We walked together for miles and miles,
And did not speak a word!
Our blood so nimbly stirred;
But as the snow-clogs dragged at our feet,
And the air grew black and blurred,
We walked together for miles and miles,
And did not speak a word!
I never saw a wilder storm:
It blew and beat with a will;
Beside me, like two men of sleet,
Walked my two mates, until
They fell asleep in their armor of ice,
And both of them stood still.
It blew and beat with a will;
Beside me, like two men of sleet,
Walked my two mates, until
They fell asleep in their armor of ice,
And both of them stood still.
I knew that they were warm enough,
And yet I could not bear
To strip them of their cloaks; their eyes
Were open and a-stare;
And so I laid their hands across
Their breasts, and left them there.
And yet I could not bear
To strip them of their cloaks; their eyes
Were open and a-stare;
And so I laid their hands across
Their breasts, and left them there.
And ran,—O Lord, I cannot tell
How fast! in my dismay
I thought the fences and the trees—
The cattle, where they lay
So black against their stacks of snow—
All swam the other way!
How fast! in my dismay
I thought the fences and the trees—
The cattle, where they lay
So black against their stacks of snow—
All swam the other way!
And when at dawn I saw a hut,
With smoke upcurling wide,
I thought it must have been my mates
That lived, and I that died;
'T was heaven to see through th' frosty panes
The warm, red cheeks inside!
With smoke upcurling wide,
I thought it must have been my mates
That lived, and I that died;
'T was heaven to see through th' frosty panes
The warm, red cheeks inside!
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |