Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1860-01-13
SNOw-A WINTER SKETCH.

SNOW-A WINTER SkETCH.
BY RALPH HoYT.
The blessed morn has come again.
The early gray
Taps at the slumberer's window pane,
And seems to say
Break, break from the enchanter's chain,
Away, Away
Tis winter, yet there is no sound
Along the air,
ofwinds upon their battle-ground,
But gently there,
The snow is falng--all around
How fair--how fair
The jocund fields would masquerade;
Fantastic scene
Tree, shrub, and lawn, and lonely glade
Have cast their green.
And Joined the revel all arrayed
So white and clean.
Fen the old posts, that hold the bars
And the old gate,
Forgetful Of their wintry wars,
And age sedate,
High capped and plumed, like white hussars,
Stand there in state.
The drifts are hanging by the sill,
The caves, the door;
The hay-stack has become a hill;
All covered Ger
The wagon, loaded for the mill
The eve before.
Maria brings the water-pail,
But where's the we'll
Like magic Of fairy tale,
Most strange to tell,
All vanished, curb, and crank, and rail
How deep it fell
The wood-pile, too, is playing hidei
The axe, the log,
The kennel of that friend SO tried
(The old watch-dog,)
The grindstone standing by its side,
Are all now iHeog.
The busting cock looks out aghast
From his high shed
No spot to scratch him a repast.
Up curves his head,
Starts the dull hamlet with blast,
And back to bed.
Old drowsy Dobbin, at the call,
Amazed, awakes;
Out from the window ofhis stall
view he takes;
While thick and faster seem to fall
The silent flakes.
The barn-yard gentry, musing, chime
Their morning moan;
Like Memnon's music of old time,
That voice of stone
So marbled they--and so sublime
Their solemn tone.
Good Ruth has called the younker folk
To dress below;
Full welcome was the word she spoke,
Down, down they go,
The cottage quietude is broke
The snow the snow
Now rises from around the fire
pleasant strain;
Ye giddy sons Of mirth retire
And ye proiane
hymn to the Eternal Sire
Goes up again.
The patriarchal Book Divine,
Upon the knee,
Opes where the gems ofJudah shine
(Sweet minstrelsieD y
How scars each heart with each fair line,
0 God, to Thee
Around the alter low they bend,
Devout in prayer;
As SHOWS upon the roof descend,
So angels there
Come down that household to defend
With gentle care.
Now sings the kettle DER the blHze
The buckwheat heaps;
Rare Mocha, worth an Arabs praise,
Sweet Susan sleeps;
The old round stand her nod obeys,
And out it leaps.
Unerrns presages declare
The banquet near;
Soon busy appetites are there;
And disappear
The glories of the ample fare,
With thanks sincere.
Now tiny snow-birds venture nigh
From eopse and spray,
Sweet strangers with the winters sky
To pass away0
And gather crumbs in full supply
For all the day.
Let now the busy hours begin
Out rolls the churn;
Forth hastes the farm-boy and brings in
The brush to burn;
Sweep, shovel, scour, sew, knit, and spin,
Till nights return.
To delve his threshing John must HE;
His sturdy shoe
Can all this subtle damp defy;
How wades he through?
While dainty mlkmaids slow and sky
His track pursue.
Each to the hours allotted care;
To shell the corn;
The broken harness to repair;
The sleigh adorn;
As cheerful, tranquil, frosty, fair,
Speeds on the morn.
While mounts the eddying smoke amain
From many hearth;
And all the landscape rings again
With rustic mirth;
So gladstone seems TO every swain
The snowy earth.