Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
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But where are the snows of yester year?
[Fr., Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?]
But where are the snows of yester year?
[Fr., Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?]
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
read more
Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale
and shabby, old and sullen.
Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale
and shabby, old and sullen.
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
. . . .
I crown thee king of intimate read more
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
. . . .
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a read more
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay--
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.
Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in read more
Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the read more
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
