In The Snow



WHIRLING, dancing, sailing down;

Starry gems from the winter's crown,

Pure and white,

Soft and light,

Feathery flakes of snow.

Out from his nest in the old oak's breast,

Flinging the flakes from his raven crest;

"Caw, caw, caw,

The wind is raw,"

He cries through the blinding storm.

Calling the rest from their downy beds,

Knocking above their drowsy heads,

"Use your wings,

You sleepy things,

And play with the beautiful snow."

With rush and song the rooks fly out,

Ready for many a rolicking rout;

Up and on,

Hither and yon,

Beautiful birds and snow.



M. A. S.