Aftermath
The snow still falls in dry and powdery grains, Fills the green footprints on the whitened grass; A gusty wind still turns the weather-vanes, And whirls a frosted leaf about a court Where boys are sliding, while a pane of glass Cracks in the cold with a subdued report.
Last night that snow more grossly, densely fell; Each antlered tree tossed flakes upon its tines And whiteness filled the gaping of each cell In an old wasps'-nest hanging from a bough That held it to the storm; those tell-tale lines Upon the blank sward were not made till now.
For it was I, who, wakened by the light That made the close-drawn bedroom curtains glow Too soon for the dead season, and too bright, Felt then a chill through blankets to the bone Which told that while I slept there had been snow, Went down to tread it, early and alone.
3. E. M. LUCIE-SM1TH
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