SKATING.
Reading edition
“The winter has come, and the skaters are here.”
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BY GEORGE LUNT.
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The earth is white with gleaming snow,
The lake one sheet of silver lies,
Beneath the morning’s ruddy glow,
The steaming vapors gently rise.
Keen is the cool and frosty air,
That waves the pine trees on the hill,
And voiceless as a whispered prayer,
Breathes down the valley clear and still.
Come, ’tis an hour to stir the blood
To glowing life in every vein!
Up,—for the sport is keen and good
Across the bright and icy plain.
On each impatient foot to-day,
The ringing steel again we’ll bind,
And o’er the crystal plain away,
We’ll leave the world and care behind.
And, oh! what joy is ours to play,
In rapid, round, and swift career,
And snatch beneath the wintry day,
One moment’s rest, and hasty cheer.
Then, when the brief, sweet day is done,
And stars above begin to blink,
As home the swift lake bears us on,
Our sweethearts meet us on the brink.
Then gather’d round the cheerful blaze,
While gusts without are blowing shrill,
With laugh, and jest, and merry lays,
We pass the jocund evening still.
Around the board our feats all told,
Comes nature’s welcome hour of rest,
And slumbers never bought with gold,
Sit light on each untroubled breast.
No lagging pulse impedes our sleep,
No startling dreams our couch annoy,
But health and peace, in quiet deep,
Smile hovering round the country boy.
Then, when the morning bright and clear,
Springs gayly o’er the glistening hill,
With hardy sports we hail it near,
Or hardy labors bless it still.
Newburyport, Massachusetts, January, 1841.