DECEMBER.
Now through the distant vales the fawn's light foot
Leaveth its cloven impress on the snow;
The wood's soft echoes mock the baying hound;
The hunter builds his watch-fire on the hills;
The school-boy, from his morning task released,
Shoulders the rifle, and goes blithely forth
To start the dusky pheasant from her nest,
Down in the ferny hollows. All day long
There is a sound of muffled hoofs, half drowned
By the quick sleigh-bell that rejoicingly
Rings in the new-born monarch. All day long,
The woodsman plies his sharp and sudden axe
Under the crashing branches.
Leaveth its cloven impress on the snow;
The wood's soft echoes mock the baying hound;
The hunter builds his watch-fire on the hills;
The school-boy, from his morning task released,
Shoulders the rifle, and goes blithely forth
To start the dusky pheasant from her nest,
Down in the ferny hollows. All day long
There is a sound of muffled hoofs, half drowned
By the quick sleigh-bell that rejoicingly
Rings in the new-born monarch. All day long,
The woodsman plies his sharp and sudden axe
Under the crashing branches.
