Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life Connecticut River reeds blown by the "Peasant Bard" |
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A WINTER THAW. |
 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
A WINTER THAW.
'Tis winter; but the night is mild
After the softening rains;
The snow is gone, save here and there
A drifted patch remains.
After the softening rains;
The snow is gone, save here and there
A drifted patch remains.
The mantling vapor wraps the hill,
From off the humid ground;
A fox is barking in the cloud,—
I hear the lonely sound.
From off the humid ground;
A fox is barking in the cloud,—
I hear the lonely sound.
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I hear the swash of swollen floods
Along the streamy vale,
And e'en the cascade's whisper-voice
Roars like a coming gale.
Along the streamy vale,
And e'en the cascade's whisper-voice
Roars like a coming gale.
The stars are hidden; and the moon
Shows like a spectre white
Behind the rack that draws aloft
Its curtain o'er her light.
Shows like a spectre white
Behind the rack that draws aloft
Its curtain o'er her light.
'Tis a weird night; the traveller,
Alone upon the road,
Sees wayside windows burnished bright,
And longs for his abode.
Alone upon the road,
Sees wayside windows burnished bright,
And longs for his abode.
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |