Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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Snow Crystals.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
Snow Crystals.
Three foot lies the Winter snow; hark! the night-wind whispers low,
Like the voice of one who watches by the newly-coffined dead.
Now the landmarks are all gone, and the white tide, deep and strong,
Rises, like a second deluge, hiding paths we used to tread.
Like the voice of one who watches by the newly-coffined dead.
Now the landmarks are all gone, and the white tide, deep and strong,
Rises, like a second deluge, hiding paths we used to tread.
“Will it,” says the village child, to her grandam kind and mild,
“Bury all, and heap above us, in one wide and common grave,
Rising over hedge and wall, slowly, till it cover all,
As above the host of Pharaoh rose the Red Sea's turbid wave?”
“Bury all, and heap above us, in one wide and common grave,
Rising over hedge and wall, slowly, till it cover all,
As above the host of Pharaoh rose the Red Sea's turbid wave?”
“No, my little fairy child,” says the grandam kind and mild,
“Good and gentle is the angel from whose wings shake down the snow:
Not a single fragile flower but he guards it from the shower;
Much more, then, earth's feathered creatures from the icy winds that blow.”
“Good and gentle is the angel from whose wings shake down the snow:
Not a single fragile flower but he guards it from the shower;
Much more, then, earth's feathered creatures from the icy winds that blow.”
Heavy on the roofs and ridges, on the lattice-sills and ledges,
Loading every branch, and clinging to the trunk and to the bough:
Yonder, in the whitened furrow, like a monument of sorrow,
Like a dead man in a desert, still unburied lies the plough.
Loading every branch, and clinging to the trunk and to the bough:
Yonder, in the whitened furrow, like a monument of sorrow,
Like a dead man in a desert, still unburied lies the plough.
In the dark the snow is sifting, in a white shower swiftly drifting,
Like the seed the sower scatters from his rough and horny hand;
See it heaving into waves, swelling into shapeless graves,
Rippling into curves and frettings, like the ocean's silver sand.
Like the seed the sower scatters from his rough and horny hand;
See it heaving into waves, swelling into shapeless graves,
Rippling into curves and frettings, like the ocean's silver sand.
How it hangs upon the eaves, how it clots upon the leaves,
Crystal round the ruby berries and the green and glossy leaf,
Clinging to the netted boughs, massing on the sloping house,
Filling all the mind and feelings with a blank, unreasoning grief.
Crystal round the ruby berries and the green and glossy leaf,
Clinging to the netted boughs, massing on the sloping house,
Filling all the mind and feelings with a blank, unreasoning grief.
191
Heavy swathes upon the brier, rising every moment higher,
Sloping in a massy buttress up against the old church wall,
Hollowed into roadside caves by the night-wind's gnawing waves,
Turning every roof to silver—hut and palace, farm and hall.
Sloping in a massy buttress up against the old church wall,
Hollowed into roadside caves by the night-wind's gnawing waves,
Turning every roof to silver—hut and palace, farm and hall.
Through the altar window-pane, brown and dim with centuries' stain,
Glares a whiteness, pale and ghastly, on the chancel-roof and floor,
Like the glimmering of white from a shroud in the midnight
On the face of frightened watcher listening to a creaking door.
Glares a whiteness, pale and ghastly, on the chancel-roof and floor,
Like the glimmering of white from a shroud in the midnight
On the face of frightened watcher listening to a creaking door.
Yet the snow-flakes in the sun glitter, glitter, one by one,
As they melt in trickling dew-drops on the robin's crimson breast—
As the bright-eyed, timid thrush, breaking sudden from the bush,
Scatters in a shower the snow-flakes that have brimmed his last year's nest.
As they melt in trickling dew-drops on the robin's crimson breast—
As the bright-eyed, timid thrush, breaking sudden from the bush,
Scatters in a shower the snow-flakes that have brimmed his last year's nest.
See the wild bird on the thorn, waiting for the peep of dawn,
Guarding yonder ruby berry, like a magic talisman,
Fluttered frightened at the snow rustling through the brake below,
As the hare flew, scared and startled, from the coming steps of man.
Guarding yonder ruby berry, like a magic talisman,
Fluttered frightened at the snow rustling through the brake below,
As the hare flew, scared and startled, from the coming steps of man.
When the passing waggons rumble, from the branch the masses tumble
Heavy, when the cold wind's shaking every snow-enamelled tree,
Filtering through the netted boughs, where the fluttering birds arouse
From their chilly, frozen torpor, with a twittering of glee.
Heavy, when the cold wind's shaking every snow-enamelled tree,
Filtering through the netted boughs, where the fluttering birds arouse
From their chilly, frozen torpor, with a twittering of glee.
Crisp beneath the crushing foot, crusting round the shaky root,
Now the swift hoofs drive the snow in a white dust all about,
Like the frothing of a cup, when a yeoman brims it up,
Like the white surf foaming, snorting, when the loud north-westers shout.
Now the swift hoofs drive the snow in a white dust all about,
Like the frothing of a cup, when a yeoman brims it up,
Like the white surf foaming, snorting, when the loud north-westers shout.
Silent land of silent death, broken by no voice or breath,
Now the shepherd's all night lighted by the glimmer from the snow;
Muffled rolls the wheel by day, hollow sounds the watch-dog's bay,
And the death-bell's booming cometh solemnly and slow.
Now the shepherd's all night lighted by the glimmer from the snow;
Muffled rolls the wheel by day, hollow sounds the watch-dog's bay,
And the death-bell's booming cometh solemnly and slow.
Looking out into the night, all is one void blank of white,
And the footprints of the birds are the only signs of life—
One vast, broad, and level plain, where only Death and Silence reign,
Foes to God, and foes to man, with all human things at strife.
And the footprints of the birds are the only signs of life—
One vast, broad, and level plain, where only Death and Silence reign,
Foes to God, and foes to man, with all human things at strife.
As I look into the night, over hill and plain of white
Comes a watchful angel's voice, clear yet softly through the dark,
As the wind grows louder, higher, spreading like a prairie fire,
And the elm shakes like the mainmast of a tempest-tossing bark.
Comes a watchful angel's voice, clear yet softly through the dark,
As the wind grows louder, higher, spreading like a prairie fire,
And the elm shakes like the mainmast of a tempest-tossing bark.
192
“Soon the south wind shall blow soft, breathing over glebe and croft,
Soon the blue will slowly widen, and the air with music ring;
And from out this snowy tomb, like a soul unto its doom,
Shall the Spring leap up in gladness, and to God his praises sing!”
Soon the blue will slowly widen, and the air with music ring;
And from out this snowy tomb, like a soul unto its doom,
Shall the Spring leap up in gladness, and to God his praises sing!”
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |