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The night fell heavy; the storm increased,
With constant news from the far northeast,
And battered against our flying wains—
This ponderous ghost of the frozen rains.
Upon our windows great snow-flakes rushed,
By cruel hands of the breezes crushed;
And many a white fantastic wreath
Was maimed by the struggling wheels beneath.
With constant news from the far northeast,
9
This ponderous ghost of the frozen rains.
Upon our windows great snow-flakes rushed,
By cruel hands of the breezes crushed;
And many a white fantastic wreath
Was maimed by the struggling wheels beneath.
| Drifted in | |