Poems (Trask)/January

by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

POEMS OF THE SEASONS.

JANUARY.

The snow lies heavy on the hills,
 The lowland wastes are white,
The sharp wind whistles shrill and cold
 In the great elms, to-night;
And through the dim old hemlock woods
 It heaves a quivering sigh,
And all the glittering host of stars
 Listen and hear the cry;
While like a globe of frozen ice
 The moon hangs in the sky.

The hazel's dainty twigs are white,
 Touched by the silvery frost;
The hawthorn and the cedar hedge
 In fleecy drifts are lost;
And down upon the broad blue lake
 The waters take their rest
Beneath the crystal coffin-lid
 Of ice upon their breast:
A conquered warrior, pinioned down,
 The mill-wheel stands confessed.

Out on the river's glittering plain
 The skater's steel rings clear:
Winter's for him the carnival
 Of all the beauteous year;
O'er the hard-trodden frozen track
 The gay sleighs speed along,
The iron hoof-beats keeping time
 To many a wild old song,
And underneath the soft fur robes
 Young hearts beat high and strong.

Midwinter! though we own thy reign
 A tyrant's, yet, for all,
There are some. compensations still
 Within thy frozen thrall!
With hope, and youth, and love for ours,
 It's little grief to know
That all outside our fire-lit home
 Is buried in the snow;
For when we live with those we love,
 We bask in summer's glow.