Delaware State journal and statesman., 1864-01-19
0ournal amo Atatssmtan
tuesday Morning January 10, l s64
Scene in a Vermont Winter.

Scene in a Vermont Winter.
'Tis a fearful night in the winter time,
As cold ns it ever can be;
The roar Of the blast is heard like the onlme
or the waves on an angry sea-
The moon is full but her silver light,
The storm dashes out with its wings Tonight
And over the sky from south to north
Not star ia seen as the wind comes forth
In the strength Of mighty glee.
All day had the snow come down-all day
AS ii never came down before
And over the hills, at sunset, lay
Some two or three feet, or more;
The fence was lost, and the wall Of stone;
I The windows blocked, and the Wellc curos gone
| The hay stack had grown to mountain itt
Aad the wood-pile looked ike monster url'
AS it lay by the farmers door.
The night sets in on world Of snow,
While the air grows sharp and chill,
And the warning roar Of the fearful bloW
Ia heard on the distant hills
And the Norther, see on the mountain peak'
In his breath how the old trees Writhe and shrek
He drives fromhis nostrils the binding SNOW;
He shouts on the plains, Ho-ho ho-hOl
And groWls with savage trill.
such night as this TO be toupu hptoau'
10 the drifts and the freezing air
Sits shivering dog, in the field, by the road'
With the snow in hs shaggy hair.
He shuts his eyes to the wind and groWlsi
He lifts his head and moans and howls;
Then crouching low, from the cutting sleet,
His nose he pressed on his quivering feet
Pray, what does the dog do thereP
A farmer came from the village plain,
But he lost the travelled way
And for hours be- trod with might and main
A path for his horse aud sleigh;
But colder still the cold winds blew,
And deeper still the deep riffs grew,
And his mare, beautiful Morgan brown,
AT last in her struggles foundered down.
Where q log in a hollow lay.
In vain, with neigh and frenzied snort,
She plunged in the drifting snow,
While her master urged, till his breath grew short
With a word and gentle blow.
But the snow was deep and the tugs were tight
His hands we're numb and had lost their might ;
So he walowed back to his half-flled sleigh,
And strove to shelter himself till day,
With his coat and the buffalo.
He has given the last faint jerk of the rein,
To rouse up his dying steed;
And the poor dog howls to the blast in vain
For help in his masters need.
For q while he strives, with wistful cry,
To catch glance from his drOwsy eye,
Aud wags his tail if the rude winis flap
The skirt of the buffalo over his lap,
And whines when he takes no heed.
The wind goes down and the storm is DER
'Tis the hour of midnight, past
The old trees writhe and bend no more
In the whirl of the rushing blast.
The silent moon, with her peaceful light,
Looks down on the hills with snow all white,
And the giant shadow of CamePs Hump,
The blasted pine and the ghostly stump
Afar on the plain are cast.
But cold aud dead by the hidden log,
Are they who came from tn town
The man in kis sielgu and his faithful dog
And his beautiful Morgan brown;
In the white snow desert, tar and grand
With his cap on his head and his reins in his hand
The dog with his nose OH his masters feet,
And the mare half seen through the crusted slee
Where she lay when she houndered down.
[Charies Carnage Eastman.