Page:Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) v7.djvu/141

1838] And if perchance the chickadee

Lisp a faint note anon,

The snow is summer's canopy,

Which she herself put on.

Rare blossoms deck the cheerful trees,

And dazzling fruits depend,

The north wind sighs a summer breeze,

The nipping frosts to fend,

Bringing glad tidings unto me,

While that I stand all ear,

Of a serene eternity,

That need not winter fear.

Out on the silent pond straightway

The restless ice doth crack,

And pond sprites merry gambols play

Amid the deaf'ning rack.

Eager I press me to the vale

As I had heard brave news,

How nature held high festival,

Which it were hard to lose.

I crack me with my neighbor ice,

And sympathizing quake,

As each new rent darts in a trice

Across the gladsome lake.

One with the cricket in the ground,

And fuel on the hearth,