Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1849-01-26
Scene in a Vermont Winter.

Scene in n Vermont Winter.
nj CHARLES c. EASTMAN.
IT'S fearful night in the winter time,
As cold as II ever can be
The roar Of the storm Is heard like the chime
OF the waves on mn angry sea
The moon is full, but her silver light
The storm dashes ont with its wings tonight
And over the sky, from south TO north,
Not star is seen, rs the winds come forth
In the strength Of mighty glce'
All day the snow came DOWNFALL day,
As Il never came down before,
And over the EARTH at night, there lay
Some two or three feet or more;
The fence was lost, and the wall Of stone,
The windows blocked, and the wel-curb gone,
The hay-stack grown TO a mountain Lift,
And the wood.pilc looked like monster drift
As it lay Ny the farmers door.
As the night set in came hail and snow,
And the air grew sharp and chill,
And the warning roar of a terrible blow
Was heard on the distant hill
And the Northcrl scel on the mountain peak,
In his breath, how the old trees writhc and shrek
lie shouts along DER the plain, no no!
He drives from his nostrils the binding snow,
And growls with q savage will.
Such a night as this, to be found abroad
In the snow and the singing air,
A shivering dog, in the field, by the road,
When the hail through his shaggy hair
The wind drives hard, doth crouch and growl,
Aud shut his eyes with dismal howl;
Then to shield himself from the cutting sleet,
His nose is pressed on his quiyering feet
Pray, what does the dog do there
His master came from the town tonight,
And lost the travelled way,
And for hours he trod, with main and might,
path for his horse and sleigh;
But deeper still the snow drifts grew,
And colder still the fierce winds blew,
And his mare, beautiful Morgan, brown,
AT last DER q log had aoundcred down,
That deep in huge drift lay.
Many plunge, with frenzicd snort,
She made in the heavy snow,
And her master strove, till her breath grew short
With word and a gentle blow;
But the snow was deep and the tugs were tight
His hands were numb and had lost their might,
So he struggled back to his sleigh again.
And strove to shelter himself, in vain,
With his coat and his buffalo
He has given the last faint jerk of tile rein
To rouse up his dying stccd,
And the poor dog bowls to the blast in vain
For help in lis masters need.
He strives for awhile, with wis,ful sigh
To catch but glance from his heavy eye,
And wags his tail if the rude wind flap
The skirt Of his coat across his lap,
And whines that he take no heed.
The wind goes dowu-ihe storm is DER,
lis the hour of midnight past,
The forest wrilhes and bends no more
In the rush OF the mighty blast.
The moon looks out with Il silver light
On the high old hills, with the snow all white
And the giant shadow Of Camers Hump,
Of ledge and tree and ghostly stump,
On the silent plain arc cast.
But there are they, by the hidden log,
Who came tonight from the town,
All dead THE man, and his faithful dog,
And his beautiful Morgan, brown.
lie sits in his sleigh, his face is bland,
With his cap on his head and the reins in his hand
The dog with his head on his masters feet,
And the mare half seen through the crusicd sleei
Where she lay when She foundcred down.