A WINTER NEST.
Reading edition
Pallid, wan-faced clouds Press close to the frozen pines, And follow the jagged lines Of fence, that the sleet enshrouds.
Sharp in the face of the sky, Gaunt, thin-ribbed leaves are blown; They rise with a shuddering moan, Then sink in the snow and die.
At the edge of the wood a vine Still clings to the sleeping beech, While its stiffened tendrils reach A nest, and around it twine.
A little gray nest all alone, With its feathery lining of snow, Where bleak winds, piping low, Croon a sweet minor tone. —Nora A. Piper.
vermilion fly-catcher. From col. George F. Breninger. Copyrighted by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1897, Chicago.
