SNOW.
Reading edition
———
BY J. P. ADDISON.
———
Falling, falling,
The snow is falling;
Floating, falling,
To the earth tending
With motion unending;
Floating, falling.
Veiled are the mountains,
Dim is the plain;
Who looketh afar,
He looketh in vain;
Wrapped in the shower,
Dark pines tower,
Shadow-like near,
Arms outspread,
As over the dead,
Solemn and drear.
Snow-birds cheerily
Chirp as they fly;
Ravens drearily
Answer on high:
Else, in the distance,
One who listens,
Naught may hear,
Voice nor sound,
In the country round,
Far or near.
Roof of the cottage
And vine at the door,
Chimney and lattice
Are rounded o’er;
The black tree
Is fair to see
In its net of snow,
And the apple-bough
Bends nearer now
To the casement low.
The paths lie buried,
The storm covers all,
The high-road wide
And the house-path small;
Hid is the stain
Of wind and rain
On the fences nigh,
And afar, each row
With the feathery snow
Is rounded high.
Muffled and heavily
Moveth the wain,
Wearily waiteth
And moveth again;
How for his hearth-fire
Sigheth the farmer
Here in the storm;
There, the fire verily
Crackleth merrily
Thinks he, and warm.
Gained that warm hearth-side,
Glad by the fire
’Mid his dear loved ones
Sitteth the sire.
“Ah the fire verily
Crackleth merrily,
Children mine,”
In the answering gleam
Glad faces beam,
The white walls shine.
Still it is falling,
The snow is falling,
Floating, falling;
To the earth tending
With motion unending,
Floating, falling.