Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/110

 THE SNOW-STORM.

And a pleasant thing it is to see

The cottage children peep From out the drift, that to their eaves

Prolongs its rampart deep.

The patient farmer searches

His buried lambs to find, And dig his silly poultry out,

That clamour in the wind : How sturdily he cuts his way

Though fierce blasts beat him back, And caters for his waiting herd,

That shiver round the stack.

Right welcome are those feath'ry flakes

To the ruddy urchins' eye, As down the long smooth hill they coast,

With shout and revelry, Or when the moon shines clear and cold,

And the band come out to play, 0, a merry gift the snow is

For a Christmas holiday.

The city miss who, wrapt in furs,

Is lifted to the sleigh, And borne so daintily to school

Along the crowded way,

�� �