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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20226-8.txt b/20226-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41e9ed3 --- /dev/null +++ b/20226-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1333 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Snow-Bound, by John Greenleaf Whittier + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Snow-Bound + A Winter Idyll + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Illustrator: Harry Fenn, Engraved by A. V. S. Anthony and W. J. Linton + +Release Date: December 30, 2006 [EBook #20226] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOW-BOUND *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Newman, Chuck Greif and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + * * * * * + + SNOW-BOUND + + * * * * * + + + SNOW-BOUND + + A Winter Idyl + + By JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + + _With Illustrations_ + + [Illustration: Portrait] + + +Boston +JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, +Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. +1872 + + +Entered according to Act of Congress, +in the years 1865 and 1867, by +JOHN G. WHITTIER, +in the Clerk's Office of the District Court +of the District of Massachusetts. + + [Illustration: Publisher's Device] + + + + +In the present edition of "Snow-Bound," the Illustrations are +drawn by Mr. HARRY FENN from sketches made by him during a visit +to the scene of the poem. The engraving has been done by Mr. +A. V. S. ANTHONY, under whose supervision the book has been +prepared, and Mr. W. J. LINTON. + +The Publishers are confident that the drawing, engraving, and +printing will commend themselves to the approval of the critic and +the connoisseur; while to those unfamiliar with the _locale_ of +the poem, the following note from the author will be the best +guaranty of the artists' fidelity. + +_It gives me pleasure to commend the illustrations which accompany +this edition of "Snow-Bound," for the faithfulness with which they +present the spirit and the details of the passages and places that +the artist has designed them to accompany._ + +J. G. W. + + + + + To + _The Memory_ + + Of + The Household It Describes, + + _This Poem Is Dedicated_ + + By + The Author. + + "As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good + Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the + Divine light of the Sun, but also by our common VVood Fire: and + as the Celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our + Fire of VVood doth the same." + + COR. AGRIPPA, _Occult Philosophy_, Book I. chap. v. + + + "Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, + And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. + The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet + Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit + Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed + In a tumultuous privacy of storm." + + EMERSON. + + + + + [Illustration] + + +SNOW BOUND. + + The sun that brief December day + Rose cheerless over hills of gray, + And, darkly circled, gave at noon + A sadder light than waning moon. + Slow tracing down the thickening sky + Its mute and ominous prophecy, + A portent seeming less than threat, + It sank from sight before it set. + A chill no coat, however stout, + Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, + A hard, dull bitterness of cold, + That checked, mid-vein, the circling race + Of life-blood in the sharpened face, + The coming of the snow-storm told. + The wind blew east: we heard the roar + Of Ocean on his wintry shore, + And felt the strong pulse throbbing there + Beat with low rhythm our inland air. + + Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,-- + Brought in the wood from out of doors, + Littered the stalls, and from the mows + Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows; + Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; + And, sharply clashing horn on horn, + Impatient down the stanchion rows + The cattle shake their walnut bows; + While, peering from his early perch + Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, + The cock his crested helmet bent + And down his querulous challenge sent. + + [Illustration] + + Unwarmed by any sunset light + The gray day darkened into night, + A night made hoary with the swarm + And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, + As zigzag wavering to and fro + Crossed and recrossed the wingéd snow: + And ere the early bedtime came + The white drift piled the window-frame, + And through the glass the clothes-line posts + Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. + + [Illustration] + + So all night long the storm roared on: + The morning broke without a sun; + In tiny spherule traced with lines + Of Nature's geometric signs, + In starry flake, and pellicle, + All day the hoary meteor fell; + And, when the second morning shone, + We looked upon a world unknown, + On nothing we could call our own. + Around the glistening wonder bent + The blue walls of the firmament, + No cloud above, no earth below,-- + A universe of sky and snow! + The old familiar sights of ours + Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers + Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood, + Or garden wall, or belt of wood; + A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, + A fenceless drift what once was road; + The bridle post an old man sat + With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; + The well-curb had a Chinese roof; + [Illustration] + And even the long sweep, high aloof, + In its slant splendor, seemed to tell + Of Pisa's leaning miracle. + + A prompt, decisive man, no breath + Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!" + Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy + Count such a summons less than joy?) + Our buskins on our feet we drew; + With mittened hands, and caps drawn low, + To guard our necks and ears from snow, + We cut the solid whiteness through. + [Illustration] + And, where the drift was deepest, made + A tunnel walled and overlaid + With dazzling crystal: we had read + Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave, + And to our own his name we gave, + With many a wish the luck were ours + To test his lamp's supernal powers. + [Illustration] + We reached the barn with merry din, + And roused the prisoned brutes within. + The old horse thrust his long head out, + And grave with wonder gazed about; + The cock his lusty greeting said, + And forth his speckled harem led; + The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked, + And mild reproach of hunger looked; + The hornéd patriarch of the sheep, + Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, + Shook his sage head with gesture mute, + And emphasized with stamp of foot. + + All day the gusty north-wind bore + The loosening drift its breath before; + Low circling round its southern zone, + The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone. + No church-bell lent its Christian tone + To the savage air, no social smoke + Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. + A solitude made more intense + By dreary voicéd elements, + The shrieking of the mindless wind, + The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind, + And on the glass the unmeaning beat + Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. + [Illustration] + Beyond the circle of our hearth + No welcome sound of toil or mirth + Unbound the spell, and testified + Of human life and thought outside. + We minded that the sharpest ear + The buried brooklet could not hear, + The music of whose liquid lip + Had been to us companionship, + And, in our lonely life, had grown + To have an almost human tone. + As night drew on, and, from the crest + Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, + The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank + From sight beneath the smothering bank, + We piled, with care, our nightly stack + Of wood against the chimney-back,-- + [Illustration] + The oaken log, green, huge, and thick, + And on its top the stout back-stick; + The knotty forestick laid apart, + And filled between with curious art + The ragged brush; then, hovering near, + We watched the first red blaze appear, + Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam + On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, + Until the old, rude-furnished room + Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom; + While radiant with a mimic flame + Outside the sparkling drift became, + And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree + Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. + The crane and pendent trammels showed, + The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed; + While childish fancy, prompt to tell + The meaning of the miracle, + Whispered the old rhyme: "_Under the tree, + When fire outdoors burns merrily, + There the witches are making tea._" + + The moon above the eastern wood + Shone at its full; the hill-range stood + [Illustration] + Transfigured in the silver flood, + Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, + Dead white, save where some sharp ravine + Took shadow, or the sombre green + Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black + Against the whiteness at their back. + For such a world and such a night + Most fitting that unwarming light, + Which only seemed where'er it fell + To make the coldness visible. + + Shut in from all the world without, + We sat the clean-winged hearth about, + Content to let the north-wind roar + In baffled rage at pane and door, + While the red logs before us beat + The frost-line back with tropic heat; + And ever, when a louder blast + Shook beam and rafter as it passed, + The merrier up its roaring draught + The great throat of the chimney laughed, + The house-dog on his paws outspread + Laid to the fire his drowsy head, + The cat's dark silhouette on the wall + A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; + And, for the winter fireside meet, + Between the andirons' straddling feet, + The mug of cider simmered slow, + The apples sputtered in a row, + And, close at hand, the basket stood + With nuts from brown October's wood. + + [Illustration] + + What matter how the night behaved? + What matter how the north-wind raved? + Blow high, blow low, not all its snow + Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. + O Time and Change!--with hair as gray + As was my sire's that winter day, + How strange it seems, with so much gone + Of life and love, to still live on! + Ah, brother! only I and thou + Are left of all that circle now,-- + The dear home faces whereupon + That fitful firelight paled and shone. + Henceforward, listen as we will, + The voices of that hearth are still; + Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, + Those lighted faces smile no more. + We tread the paths their feet have worn, + [Illustration] + We sit beneath their orchard-trees, + We hear, like them, the hum of bees + And rustle of the bladed corn; + We turn the pages that they read, + Their written words we linger o'er, + But in the sun they cast no shade, + No voice is heard, no sign is made, + No step is on the conscious floor! + Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, + (Since He who knows our need is just,) + That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. + [Illustration] + Alas for him who never sees + The stars shine through his cypress-trees! + Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, + Nor looks to see the breaking day + Across the mournful marbles play! + Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, + The truth to flesh and sense unknown, + That Life is ever lord of Death, + And Love can never lose its own! + + We sped the time with stories old, + Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, + Or stammered from our school-book lore + "The Chief of Gambia's golden shore." + How often since, when all the land + Was clay in Slavery's shaping hand, + As if a trumpet called, I've heard + Dame Mercy Warren's rousing word: + "_Does not the voice of reason cry, + Claim the first right which Nature gave, + From the red scourge of bondage fly, + Nor deign to live a burdened slave!_" + Our father rode again his ride + On Memphremagog's wooded side; + [Illustration] + Sat down again to moose and samp + In trapper's hut and Indian camp; + Lived o'er the old idyllic ease + Beneath St. François' hemlock-trees; + Again for him the moonlight shone + On Norman cap and bodiced zone; + Again he heard the violin play + Which led the village dance away, + And mingled in its merry whirl + The grandam and the laughing girl. + Or, nearer home, our steps he led + Where Salisbury's level marshes spread + [Illustration] + Mile-wide as flies the laden bee; + Where merry mowers, hale and strong, + Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along + The low green prairies of the sea. + We shared the fishing off Boar's Head, + And round the rocky Isles of Shoals + The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals; + The chowder on the sand-beach made, + Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, + With spoons of clam-shell from the pot. + [Illustration] + We heard the tales of witchcraft old, + And dream and sign and marvel told + To sleepy listeners as they lay + Stretched idly on the salted hay, + Adrift along the winding shores, + [Illustration] + When favoring breezes deigned to blow + The square sail of the gundalow, + And idle lay the useless oars. + + Our mother, while she turned her wheel + Or run the new-knit stocking-heel, + Told how the Indian hordes came down + At midnight on Cochecho town, + And how her own great-uncle bore + His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. + Recalling, in her fitting phrase, + So rich and picturesque and free, + (The common unrhymed poetry + Of simple life and country ways,) + The story of her early days,-- + She made us welcome to her home; + Old hearths grew wide to give us room; + We stole with her a frightened look + At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, + The fame whereof went far and wide + Through all the simple country side; + We heard the hawks at twilight play, + The boat-horn on Piscataqua, + The loon's weird laughter far away; + [Illustration] + We fished her little trout-brook, knew + What flowers in wood and meadow grew, + What sunny hillsides autumn-brown + She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down, + Saw where in sheltered cove and bay + The ducks' black squadron anchored lay, + And heard the wild-geese calling loud + Beneath the gray November cloud. + + Then, haply, with a look more grave, + And soberer tone, some tale she gave + From painful Sewell's ancient tome, + Beloved in every Quaker home, + Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, + Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint,-- + Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!-- + Who, when the dreary calms prevailed, + And water-butt and bread-cask failed, + And cruel, hungry eyes pursued + His portly presence mad for food, + With dark hints muttered under breath + Of casting lots for life or death, + Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies, + To be himself the sacrifice. + Then, suddenly, as if to save + The good man from his living grave + A ripple on the water grew, + A school of porpoise flashed in view. + "Take, eat," he said, "and be content; + These fishes in my stead are sent + By Him who gave the tangled ram + To spare the child of Abraham." + [Illustration] + Our uncle, innocent of books, + Was rich in lore of fields and brooks, + The ancient teachers never dumb + Of Nature's unhoused lyceum. + In moons and tides and weather wise, + He read the clouds as prophecies, + And foul or fair could well divine, + By many an occult hint and sign, + Holding the cunning-warded keys, + To all the woodcraft mysteries; + Himself to Nature's heart so near + That all her voices in his ear + Of beast or bird had meanings clear, + Like Apollonius of old, + Who knew the tales the sparrows told, + Or Hermes, who interpreted + What the sage cranes of Nilus said; + A simple, guileless, childlike man, + Content to live where life began; + Strong only on his native grounds, + The little world of sights and sounds + Whose girdle was the parish bounds, + Whereof his fondly partial pride + The common features magnified, + As Surrey hills to mountains grew + In White of Selborne's loving view,-- + He told how teal and loon he shot, + [Illustration] + And how the eagle's eggs he got, + The feats on pond and river done, + The prodigies of rod and gun; + Till, warming with the tales he told, + Forgotten was the outside cold, + The bitter wind unheeded blew, + From ripening corn the pigeons flew, + [Illustration] + The partridge drummed i' the wood, the mink + Went fishing down the river-brink; + In fields with bean or clover gay, + The woodchuck, like a hermit gray, + Peered from the doorway of his cell; + The muskrat plied the mason's trade, + And tier by tier his mud-walls laid; + And from the shagbark overhead + The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. + + Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer + And voice in dreams I see and hear,-- + The sweetest woman ever Fate + Perverse denied a household mate, + Who, lonely, homeless, not the less + Found peace in love's unselfishness, + And welcome wheresoe'er she went, + A calm and gracious element, + Whose presence seemed the sweet income + And womanly atmosphere of home,-- + Called up her girlhood memories, + The huskings and the apple-bees, + The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, + Weaving through all the poor details + And homespun warp of circumstance + A golden woof-thread of romance. + [Illustration] + For well she kept her genial mood + And simple faith of maidenhood; + Before her still a cloud-land lay, + The mirage loomed across her way; + The morning dew, that dries so soon + With others, glistened at her noon; + Through years of toil and soil and care + From glossy tress to thin gray hair, + All unprofaned she held apart + The virgin fancies of the heart. + Be shame to him of woman born + Who hath for such but thought of scorn. + + [Illustration] + + There, too, our elder sister plied + Her evening task the stand beside; + A full, rich nature, free to trust, + Truthful and almost sternly just, + Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, + And make her generous thought a fact, + Keeping with many a light disguise + The secret of self-sacrifice. + O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best + That Heaven itself could give thee,--rest, + Rest from all bitter thoughts and things! + How many a poor one's blessing went + With thee beneath the low green tent + Whose curtain never outward swings! + + As one who held herself a part + Of all she saw, and let her heart + Against the household bosom lean, + Upon the motley-braided mat + Our youngest and our dearest sat, + Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, + Now bathed within the fadeless green + And holy peace of Paradise. + O, looking from some heavenly hill, + Or from the shade of saintly palms, + Or silver reach of river calms, + Do those large eyes behold me still? + With me one little year ago:-- + [Illustration] + The chill weight of the winter snow + For months upon her grave has lain; + And now, when summer south-winds blow, + And brier and harebell bloom again, + I tread the pleasant paths we trod, + I see the violet-sprinkled sod + Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak + The hillside flowers she loved to seek, + Yet following me where'er I went + [Illustration] + With dark eyes full of love's content. + The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills + The air with sweetness; all the hills + Stretch green to June's unclouded sky; + But still I wait with ear and eye + For something gone which should be nigh, + A loss in all familiar things, + In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. + And yet, dear heart! remembering thee, + Am I not richer than of old? + Safe in thy immortality, + What change can reach the wealth I hold? + What chance can mar the pearl and gold + Thy love hath left in trust with me? + And while in life's late afternoon, + Where cool and long the shadows grow, + I walk to meet the night that soon + Shall shape and shadow overflow, + I cannot feel that thou art far, + Since near at need the angels are; + And when the sunset gates unbar, + Shall I not see thee waiting stand, + And, white against the evening star, + The welcome of thy beckoning hand? + + Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, + The master of the district school + Held at the fire his favored place; + Its warm glow lit a laughing face + Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared + [Illustration] + The uncertain prophecy of beard. + He teased the mitten-blinded cat, + Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat, + Sang songs, and told us what befalls + In classic Dartmouth's college halls. + Born the wild Northern hills among, + From whence his yeoman father wrung + By patient toil subsistence scant, + Not competence and yet not want, + He early gained the power to pay + His cheerful, self-reliant way; + Could doff at ease his scholar's gown + To peddle wares from town to town; + Or through the long vacation's reach + In lonely lowland districts teach, + Where all the droll experience found + At stranger hearths in boarding round, + The moonlit skater's keen delight, + The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, + The rustic party, with its rough + Accompaniment of blind-man's-buff, + [Illustration] + And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, + His winter task a pastime made. + Happy the snow-locked homes wherein + He tuned his merry violin, + Or played the athlete in the barn, + Or held the good dame's winding yarn, + Or mirth-provoking versions told + Of classic legends rare and old, + Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome + [Illustration] + Had all the commonplace of home, + And little seemed at best the odds + 'Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods; + Where Pindus-born Araxes took + The guise of any grist-mill brook, + And dread Olympus at his will + Became a huckleberry hill. + + A careless boy that night he seemed; + But at his desk he had the look + And air of one who wisely schemed, + And hostage from the future took + In trainéd thought and lore of book. + Large-brained, clear-eyed,--of such as he + Shall Freedom's young apostles be, + Who, following in War's bloody trail, + Shall every lingering wrong assail; + All chains from limb and spirit strike, + Uplift the black and white alike; + Scatter before their swift advance + The darkness and the ignorance, + The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth, + Which nurtured Treason's monstrous growth, + Made murder pastime, and the hell + Of prison-torture possible; + The cruel lie of caste refute, + Old forms remould, and substitute + For Slavery's lash the freeman's will, + For blind routine, wise-handed skill; + A school-house plant on every hill, + Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence + The quick wires of intelligence; + Till North and South together brought + Shall own the same electric thought, + In peace a common flag salute, + And, side by side in labor's free + And unresentful rivalry, + Harvest the fields wherein they fought. + + [Illustration] + + Another guest that winter night + Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light. + Unmarked by time, and yet not young, + The honeyed music of her tongue + And words of meekness scarcely told + A nature passionate and bold, + Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide, + Its milder features dwarfed beside + Her unbent will's majestic pride. + She sat among us, at the best, + A not unfeared, half-welcome guest, + Rebuking with her cultured phrase + Our homeliness of words and ways. + A certain pard-like, treacherous grace + Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash, + Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash; + And under low brows, black with night, + Rayed out at times a dangerous light; + The sharp heat-lightnings of her face + Presaging ill to him whom Fate + Condemned to share her love or hate. + A woman tropical, intense + In thought and act, in soul and sense, + She blended in a like degree + The vixen and the devotee, + Revealing with each freak or feint + The temper of Petruchio's Kate, + The raptures of Siena's saint. + Her tapering hand and rounded wrist + Had facile power to form a fist; + The warm, dark languish of her eyes + Was never safe from wrath's surprise. + Brows saintly calm and lips devout + Knew every change of scowl and pout; + And the sweet voice had notes more high + And shrill for social battle-cry. + + Since then what old cathedral town + Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, + What convent-gate has held its lock + Against the challenge of her knock! + Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares, + [Illustration] + Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs, + Gray olive slopes of hills that hem + Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, + Or startling on her desert throne + The crazy Queen of Lebanon + With claims fantastic as her own, + Her tireless feet have held their way; + And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray, + She watches under Eastern skies, + [Illustration] + With hope each day renewed and fresh, + The Lord's quick coming in the flesh, + Whereof she dreams and prophesies! + + Where'er her troubled path may be, + The Lord's sweet pity with her go! + The outward wayward life we see, + The hidden springs we may not know. + Nor is it given us to discern + What threads the fatal sisters spun, + Through what ancestral years has run + The sorrow with the woman born, + What forged her cruel chain of moods, + What set her feet in solitudes, + And held the love within her mute, + What mingled madness in the blood, + A life-long discord and annoy, + Water of tears with oil of joy, + And hid within the folded bud + Perversities of flower and fruit. + It is not ours to separate + The tangled skein of will and fate, + To show what metes and bounds should stand + Upon the soul's debatable land, + And between choice and Providence + Divide the circle of events; + But He who knows our frame is just, + Merciful, and compassionate, + And full of sweet assurances + And hope for all the language is, + That He remembereth we are dust! + + At last the great logs, crumbling low, + Sent out a dull and duller glow, + [Illustration] + The bull's-eye watch that hung in view, + Ticking its weary circuit through, + Pointed with mutely-warning sign + Its black hand to the hour of nine. + That sign the pleasant circle broke: + My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke, + Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray, + And laid it tenderly away, + Then roused himself to safely cover + The dull red brands with ashes over. + And while, with care, our mother laid + The work aside, her steps she stayed + One moment, seeking to express + Her grateful sense of happiness + For food and shelter, warmth and health, + And love's contentment more than wealth, + With simple wishes (not the weak, + Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek, + But such as warm the generous heart, + O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) + That none might lack, that bitter night, + For bread and clothing, warmth and light. + + Within our beds awhile we heard + The wind that round the gables roared, + With now and then a ruder shock, + Which made our very bedsteads rock. + We heard the loosened clapboards tost, + The board-nails snapping in the frost; + And on us, through the unplastered wall, + Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall. + But sleep stole on, as sleep will do + When hearts are light and life is new; + Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, + Till in the summer-land of dreams + They softened to the sound of streams, + Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars, + And lapsing waves on quiet shores. + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + + Next morn we wakened with the shout + Of merry voices high and clear; + And saw the teamsters drawing near + To break the drifted highways out. + Down the long hillside treading slow + We saw the half-buried oxen go, + Shaking the snow from heads uptost, + Their straining nostrils white with frost. + Before our door the straggling train + Drew up, an added team to gain. + The elders threshed their hands a-cold, + Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes + From lip to lip; the younger folks + Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled, + Then toiled again the cavalcade + O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine, + And woodland paths that wound between + Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed. + [Illustration] + From every barn a team afoot, + At every house a new recruit, + Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law, + Haply the watchful young men saw + [Illustration] + Sweet doorway pictures of the curls + And curious eyes of merry girls, + Lifting their hands in mock defence + Against the snow-ball's compliments, + And reading in each missive tost + The charm with Eden never lost. + + We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; + And, following where the teamsters led, + The wise old Doctor went his round, + [Illustration] + Just pausing at our door to say, + In the brief autocratic way + Of one who, prompt at Duty's call, + Was free to urge her claim on all, + That some poor neighbor sick abed + At night our mother's aid would need. + For, one in generous thought and deed, + What mattered in the sufferer's sight + The Quaker matron's inward light, + The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? + All hearts confess the saints elect + Who, twain in faith, in love agree, + And melt not in an acid sect + The Christian pearl of charity! + + So days went on: a week had passed + Since the great world was heard from last. + The Almanac we studied o'er, + Read and reread our little store, + Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score; + One harmless novel, mostly hid + From younger eyes, a book forbid, + And poetry, (or good or bad, + A single book was all we had,) + Where Ellwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, + A stranger to the heathen Nine, + Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine, + The wars of David and the Jews. + [Illustration] + At last the floundering carrier bore + The village paper to our door. + Lo! broadening outward as we read, + To warmer zones the horizon spread; + In panoramic length unrolled + We saw the marvels that it told. + Before us passed the painted Creeks, + And daft McGregor on his raids + In Costa Rica's everglades. + [Illustration] + And up Taygetos winding slow + Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks, + A Turk's head at each saddle-bow! + Welcome to us its week-old news, + Its corner for the rustic Muse, + Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, + Its record, mingling in a breath + The wedding knell and dirge of death; + Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale; + The latest culprit sent to jail; + Its hue and cry of stolen and lost, + Its vendue sales and goods at cost, + And traffic calling loud for gain. + We felt the stir of hall and street, + The pulse of life that round us beat; + The chill embargo of the snow + Was melted in the genial glow; + Wide swung again our ice-locked door, + And all the world was ours once more! + + Clasp, Angel of the backward look + And folded wings of ashen gray + And voice of echoes far away, + The brazen covers of thy book; + The weird palimpsest old and vast, + Wherein thou hid'st the spectral past; + Where, closely mingling, pale and glow + The characters of joy and woe; + The monographs of outlived years, + Or smile-illumed or dim with tears, + Green hills of life that slope to death, + And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees + Shade off to mournful cypresses + With the white amaranths underneath. + Even while I look, I can but heed + The restless sands' incessant fall, + Importunate hours that hours succeed, + Each clamorous with its own sharp need, + And duty keeping pace with all. + Shut down and clasp the heavy lids; + I hear again the voice that bids + The dreamer leave his dream midway + For larger hopes and graver fears: + Life greatens in these later years, + The century's aloe flowers to-day! + + Yet, haply, in some lull of life, + Some Truce of God which breaks its strife, + The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, + Dreaming in throngful city ways + Of winter joys his boyhood knew; + And dear and early friends--the few + Who yet remain--shall pause to view + These Flemish pictures of old days; + Sit with me by the homestead hearth, + And stretch the hands of memory forth + To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze! + And thanks untraced to lips unknown + Shall greet me like the odors blown + From unseen meadows newly mown, + Or lilies floating in some pond, + Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond; + The traveller owns the grateful sense + Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, + And, pausing, takes with forehead bare + The benediction of the air. + + [Illustration] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Snow-Bound, by John Greenleaf Whittier + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOW-BOUND *** + +***** This file should be named 20226-8.txt or 20226-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/2/2/20226/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Newman, Chuck Greif and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Snow-Bound + A Winter Idyll + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Illustrator: Harry Fenn, Engraved by A. V. S. Anthony and W. J. Linton + +Release Date: December 30, 2006 [EBook #20226] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOW-BOUND *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Newman, Chuck Greif and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p> <br> </p> + +<h2 class = "extended">SNOW-BOUND</h2> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/cover.jpg" width = "402" height = "583" +alt = "Snow Bound" title = "Snow Bound"> +</p> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<h2 class = "space extended">SNOW-BOUND</h2> + +<h4 class = "section">A WINTER IDYL</h4> + + +<h5 class = "section smallcaps">By JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER</h5> + + +<h6 class = "section"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</i></h6> + +<p> </p> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/portrait.gif" width = "186" height = "190" +alt = "portrait of author"> +</p> + + +<h5 class = "section"><span class = "extended">BOSTON</span><br> +JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,</h5> +<h6 class = "smallcaps"> +Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.</h6> +<h5>1872</h5> + +<hr class = "mid"> + +<h6>Entered according to Act of Congress, +in the years 1865 and 1867, by<br> + +<span class = "extended">JOHN G. WHITTIER,</span><br> +in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court +of the District of Massachusetts.</h6> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/publogo.gif" width = "107" height = "66" +alt = "publisher's device" title = "publisher's device"> +</p> + +<table class = "lines" summary = "text with decorative border"> +<tr> +<td width = "28px"> +<img src = "images/topleft.gif" width = "30" height = "36" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +<td class = "center"> +<img src = "images/top.gif" width = "80" height = "29" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +<td width = "28px"> +<img src = "images/topright.gif" width = "30" height = "36" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class = "vert left"></td> +<td> + +<div class = "intro"> + +<p> +In the present edition of “Snow-Bound,” the Illustrations +are drawn by <span class = "smallcaps">Mr. Harry Fenn</span> from +sketches made by him during a visit to the scene of the poem. The +engraving has been done by <span class = "smallcaps">Mr. +A. V. S. Anthony</span>, under whose supervision the book +has been prepared, and <span class = "smallcaps">Mr. W. J. +Linton</span>.</p> + +<p> +The Publishers are confident that the drawing, engraving, and printing +will commend themselves to the approval of the critic and the +connoisseur; while to those unfamiliar with the <i>locale</i> of the +poem, the following note from the author will be the best guaranty of +the artists’ fidelity.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +<i>It gives me pleasure to commend the illustrations which accompany +this edition of “Snow-Bound,” for the faithfulness with +which they present the spirit and the details of the passages and places +that the artist has designed them to accompany.</i></p> + +<p align = "right">J. G. W.</p> + +</div> + +</td> +<td class = "vert right"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><img src = "images/bottomleft.gif" width = "30" height = "26" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +<td class = "center"> +<img src = "images/bottom.gif" width = "80" height = "32" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +<td><img src = "images/bottomright.gif" width = "30" height = "26" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<h6 class = "chapter">TO</h6> + +<h5 class = "space"><i>THE MEMORY</i></h5> + +<h6 class = "space">OF</h6> + +<h5 class = "space extended">THE HOUSEHOLD IT DESCRIBES,</h5> + +<h5 class = "space"><i>THIS POEM IS DEDICATED</i></h5> + +<h6 class = "space">BY</h6> + +<h5 class = "space extended">THE AUTHOR.</h5> + +<hr class = "mid"> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<p> +“As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good +Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the Divine +light of the Sun, but also by our common VVood Fire: and as the +Celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of VVood +doth the same.” +</p> + +<p align = "right"> +<span class = "smallcaps">Cor. Agrippa</span>, +<i>Occult Philosophy</i>, Book I. chap. v.</p> + + +<div class = "center"> + +<p>“Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,</p> +<p>Arrives the snow; and, driving o’er the fields,</p> +<p>Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air</p> +<p>Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,</p> +<p>And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.</p> +<p>The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet</p> +<p>Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit</p> +<p>Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed</p> +<p>In a tumultuous privacy of storm.”</p> + +<p class = "smallcaps" align = "right">Emerson.</p> + +</div> + + + +<div class = "text"> + +<hr class = "mid"> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<a name = "page9" id = "page9"> </a> + +<table class = "picture" summary = "illustrated title"> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic09a.gif" width = "333" height = "323" +alt = "Snow Bound" title = "Snow Bound"> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width = "33px"> +<img src = "images/pic09b.gif" width = "33" height = "32" +alt = "T" title = "T"></td> +<td class = "title"> +<p>HE sun that brief December day</p> +<p>Rose cheerless over hills of gray,</p> +<p>And, darkly circled, gave at noon</p> +<p>A sadder light than waning moon.</p> +<p>Slow tracing down the thickening sky</p> +<p>Its mute and ominous prophecy,</p> +<p>A portent seeming less than threat,</p> +<p>It sank from sight before it set.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<span class = "pagenum">10</span> +<a name = "page10" id = "page10"> </a> +<p class = "space">A chill no coat, however stout,</p> +<p>Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,</p> +<p>A hard, dull bitterness of cold,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +That checked, mid-vein, the circling race</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Of life-blood in the sharpened face,</p> +<p>The coming of the snow-storm told.</p> +<p>The wind blew east: we heard the roar</p> +<p>Of Ocean on his wintry shore,</p> +<p>And felt the strong pulse throbbing there</p> +<p>Beat with low rhythm our inland air.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,—</p> +<p>Brought in the wood from out of doors,</p> +<p>Littered the stalls, and from the mows</p> +<p>Raked down the herd’s-grass for the cows;</p> +<p>Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;</p> +<p>And, sharply clashing horn on horn,</p> +<p>Impatient down the stanchion rows</p> +<span class = "pagenum">11</span> +<a name = "page11" id = "page11"> </a> +<p>The cattle shake their walnut bows;</p> +<p>While, peering from his early perch</p> +<p>Upon the scaffold’s pole of birch,</p> +<p>The cock his crested helmet bent</p> + +<table class = "picture" summary = "shaped illustration"> +<tr> +<td> +<img src = "images/pic11a.gif" width = "120" height = "71" +alt = "picture corner" title = "picture corner"></td> +<td class = "leftpad"> +<p>And down his querulous challenge sent.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic11b.gif" width = "331" height = "190" +alt = "picture corner" title = "picture corner"> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Unwarmed by any sunset light</p> +<p>The gray day darkened into night,</p> +<p>A night made hoary with the swarm</p> +<p>And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,</p> +<p>As zigzag wavering to and fro</p> +<p>Crossed and recrossed the wingéd snow:</p> +<span class = "pagenum">12</span> +<a name = "page12" id = "page12"> </a> +<p>And ere the early bedtime came</p> +<p>The white drift piled the window-frame,</p> +<p>And through the glass the clothes-line posts</p> +<p>Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic12.jpg" width = "326" height = "121" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>So all night long the storm roared on:</p> +<p>The morning broke without a sun;</p> +<p>In tiny spherule traced with lines</p> +<p>Of Nature’s geometric signs,</p> +<p>In starry flake, and pellicle,</p> +<p>All day the hoary meteor fell;</p> +<p>And, when the second morning shone,</p> +<p>We looked upon a world unknown,</p> +<p>On nothing we could call our own.</p> +<p>Around the glistening wonder bent</p> +<span class = "pagenum">13</span> +<a name = "page13" id = "page13"> </a> +<p>The blue walls of the firmament,</p> +<p>No cloud above, no earth below,—</p> +<p>A universe of sky and snow!</p> +<p>The old familiar sights of ours</p> +<p>Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers</p> +<p>Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,</p> +<p>Or garden wall, or belt of wood;</p> +<p>A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,</p> +<p>A fenceless drift what once was road;</p> +<p>The bridle post an old man sat</p> + +<table class = "picture" summary = "shaped illustration"> +<tr> +<td> +<p>With loose-flung coat</p> +</td> +<td class = "ell" rowspan = "3"> +<img src = "images/pic13b.gif" width = "73" height = "273" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +<td class = "leftpad"> +<p>and high cocked hat;</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>The well-curb had</p> +</td> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "leftpad"> +<p>a Chinese roof;</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "ell right"> +<img src = "images/pic13a.gif" width = "78" height = "197" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "ell"> +<img src = "images/pic13c.gif" width = "76" height = "196" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<span class = "pagenum">14</span> +<a name = "page14" id = "page14"> </a> + +<p>And even the long sweep, high aloof,</p> +<p>In its slant splendor, seemed to tell</p> +<p>Of Pisa’s leaning miracle.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +A prompt, decisive man, no breath</p> +<p>Our father wasted: “Boys, a path!”</p> +<p>Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy</p> +<p>Count such a summons less than joy?)</p> +<p>Our buskins on our feet we drew;</p> +<p class = "indent"> +With mittened hands, and caps drawn low,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +To guard our necks and ears from snow,</p> +<p>We cut the solid whiteness through.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic14.gif" width = "326" height = "205" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">15</span> +<a name = "page15" id = "page15"> </a> +<p>And, where the drift was deepest, made</p> +<p>A tunnel walled and overlaid</p> +<p>With dazzling crystal: we had read</p> +<p>Of rare Aladdin’s wondrous cave,</p> +<p>And to our own his name we gave,</p> +<p>With many a wish the luck were ours</p> +<p>To test his lamp’s supernal powers.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic15.gif" width = "328" height = "205" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>We reached the barn with merry din,</p> +<p>And roused the prisoned brutes within.</p> +<p>The old horse thrust his long head out,</p> +<p>And grave with wonder gazed about;</p> +<span class = "pagenum">16</span> +<a name = "page16" id = "page16"> </a> +<p>The cock his lusty greeting said,</p> +<p>And forth his speckled harem led;</p> +<p>The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,</p> +<p>And mild reproach of hunger looked;</p> +<p>The hornéd patriarch of the sheep,</p> +<p>Like Egypt’s Amun roused from sleep,</p> +<p>Shook his sage head with gesture mute,</p> +<p>And emphasized with stamp of foot.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +All day the gusty north-wind bore</p> +<p>The loosening drift its breath before;</p> +<p>Low circling round its southern zone,</p> +<p>The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.</p> +<p>No church-bell lent its Christian tone</p> +<p>To the savage air, no social smoke</p> +<p>Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.</p> +<p>A solitude made more intense</p> +<p>By dreary voicéd elements,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">17</span> +<a name = "page17" id = "page17"> </a> +<p>The shrieking of the mindless wind,</p> +<p>The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,</p> +<p>And on the glass the unmeaning beat</p> +<p>Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.</p> + +<table class = "picture" width = "324px"> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic17a.gif" width = "325" height = "195" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Beyond the circle of our hearth</p> +<p>No welcome sound of toil or mirth</p> +</td> +<td class = "page17" width = "143px"> </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Unbound the spell, and testified</p> +<p>Of human life and thought outside.</p> +<p>We minded that the sharpest ear</p> +<p>The buried brooklet could not hear,</p> +<p>The music of whose liquid lip</p> +<span class = "pagenum">18</span> +<a name = "page18" id = "page18"> </a> +<p>Had been to us companionship,</p> +<p>And, in our lonely life, had grown</p> +<p>To have an almost human tone.</p> +<p>As night drew on, and, from the crest</p> +<p>Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,</p> +<p>The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank</p> +<p>From sight beneath the smothering bank,</p> +<p>We piled, with care, our nightly stack</p> +<p>Of wood against the chimney-back,—</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic18.jpg" width = "338" height = "280" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">19</span> +<a name = "page19" id = "page19"> </a> +<p>The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,</p> +<p>And on its top the stout back-stick;</p> +<p>The knotty forestick laid apart,</p> +<p>And filled between with curious art</p> +<p>The ragged brush; then, hovering near,</p> +<p>We watched the first red blaze appear,</p> +<p>Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam</p> +<p>On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,</p> +<p>Until the old, rude-furnished room</p> +<p>Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;</p> +<p>While radiant with a mimic flame</p> +<p>Outside the sparkling drift became,</p> +<p>And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree</p> +<p>Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.</p> +<p>The crane and pendent trammels showed,</p> +<p>The Turks’ heads on the andirons glowed;</p> +<p>While childish fancy, prompt to tell</p> +<p>The meaning of the miracle,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">20</span> +<a name = "page20" id = "page20"> </a> +<p>Whispered the old rhyme: “<i>Under the tree,</i></p> +<p><i>When fire outdoors burns merrily,</i></p> +<p><i>There the witches are making tea.</i>”</p> + +<p class = "space"> +The moon above the eastern wood</p> +<p>Shone at its full; the hill-range stood</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic20.gif" width = "322" height = "230" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Transfigured in the silver flood,</p> +<p>Its blown snows flashing cold and keen,</p> +<p>Dead white, save where some sharp ravine</p> +<p>Took shadow, or the sombre green</p> +<p>Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black</p> +<span class = "pagenum">21</span> +<a name = "page21" id = "page21"> </a> +<p>Against the whiteness at their back.</p> +<p>For such a world and such a night</p> +<p>Most fitting that unwarming light,</p> +<p>Which only seemed where’er it fell</p> +<p>To make the coldness visible.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Shut in from all the world without,</p> +<p>We sat the clean-winged hearth about,</p> +<p>Content to let the north-wind roar</p> +<p>In baffled rage at pane and door,</p> +<p>While the red logs before us beat</p> +<p>The frost-line back with tropic heat;</p> +<p>And ever, when a louder blast</p> +<p>Shook beam and rafter as it passed,</p> +<p>The merrier up its roaring draught</p> +<p>The great throat of the chimney laughed,</p> +<p>The house-dog on his paws outspread</p> +<p>Laid to the fire his drowsy head,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">22</span> +<a name = "page22" id = "page22"> </a> +<p>The cat’s dark silhouette on the wall</p> +<p>A couchant tiger’s seemed to fall;</p> +<p>And, for the winter fireside meet,</p> +<p>Between the andirons’ straddling feet,</p> +<p>The mug of cider simmered slow,</p> +<p>The apples sputtered in a row,</p> +<p>And, close at hand, the basket stood</p> +<p>With nuts from brown October’s wood.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic22.gif" width = "320" height = "149" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>What matter how the night behaved?</p> +<p>What matter how the north-wind raved?</p> +<p>Blow high, blow low, not all its snow</p> +<p>Could quench our hearth-fire’s ruddy glow.</p> +<p>O Time and Change!—with hair as gray</p> +<span class = "pagenum">23</span> +<a name = "page23" id = "page23"> </a> +<p>As was my sire’s that winter day,</p> +<p>How strange it seems, with so much gone</p> +<p>Of life and love, to still live on!</p> +<p>Ah, brother! only I and thou</p> +<p>Are left of all that circle now,—</p> +<p>The dear home faces whereupon</p> +<p>That fitful firelight paled and shone.</p> +<p>Henceforward, listen as we will,</p> +<p>The voices of that hearth are still;</p> +<p>Look where we may, the wide earth o’er,</p> +<p>Those lighted faces smile no more.</p> +<p>We tread the paths their feet have worn,</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic23.gif" width = "320" height = "188" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">24</span> +<a name = "page24" id = "page24"> </a> +<p class = "indent"> +We sit beneath their orchard-trees,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +We hear, like them, the hum of bees</p> +<p>And rustle of the bladed corn;</p> +<p>We turn the pages that they read,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Their written words we linger o’er,</p> +<p>But in the sun they cast no shade,</p> +<p>No voice is heard, no sign is made,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +No step is on the conscious floor!</p> +<p>Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust,</p> +<p>(Since He who knows our need is just,)</p> +<p>That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic24.gif" width = "230" height = "222" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">25</span> +<a name = "page25" id = "page25"> </a> +<p>Alas for him who never sees</p> +<p>The stars shine through his cypress-trees!</p> +<p>Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,</p> +<p>Nor looks to see the breaking day</p> +<p>Across the mournful marbles play!</p> +<p>Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The truth to flesh and sense unknown,</p> +<p>That Life is ever lord of Death,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And Love can never lose its own!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +We sped the time with stories old,</p> +<p>Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told,</p> +<p>Or stammered from our school-book lore</p> +<p>“The Chief of Gambia’s golden shore.”</p> +<p>How often since, when all the land</p> +<p>Was clay in Slavery’s shaping hand,</p> +<p>As if a trumpet called, I’ve heard</p> +<p>Dame Mercy Warren’s rousing word:</p> +<span class = "pagenum">26</span> +<a name = "page26" id = "page26"> </a> +<p>“<i>Does not the voice of reason cry,</i></p> +<p class = "indent"> +<i>Claim the first right which Nature gave,</i></p> +<p><i>From the red scourge of bondage fly,</i></p> +<p class = "indent"> +<i>Nor deign to live a burdened slave!</i>”</p> +<p>Our father rode again his ride</p> +<p>On Memphremagog’s wooded side;</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic26.gif" width = "322" height = "195" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Sat down again to moose and samp</p> +<p>In trapper’s hut and Indian camp;</p> +<p>Lived o’er the old idyllic ease</p> +<p>Beneath St. François’ hemlock-trees;</p> +<p>Again for him the moonlight shone</p> +<p>On Norman cap and bodiced zone;</p> +<span class = "pagenum">27</span> +<a name = "page27" id = "page27"> </a> +<p>Again he heard the violin play</p> +<p>Which led the village dance away,</p> +<p>And mingled in its merry whirl</p> +<p>The grandam and the laughing girl.</p> +<p>Or, nearer home, our steps he led</p> +<p>Where Salisbury’s level marshes spread</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic27.jpg" width = "318" height = "121" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p class = "indent"> +Mile-wide as flies the laden bee;</p> +<p>Where merry mowers, hale and strong,</p> +<p>Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The low green prairies of the sea.</p> +<p>We shared the fishing off Boar’s Head,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And round the rocky Isles of Shoals</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals;</p> +<p>The chowder on the sand-beach made,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">28</span> +<a name = "page28" id = "page28"> </a> +<p>Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot,</p> +<p>With spoons of clam-shell from the pot.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic28a.jpg" width = "318" height = "118" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>We heard the tales of witchcraft old,</p> +<p>And dream and sign and marvel told</p> +<p>To sleepy listeners as they lay</p> +<p>Stretched idly on the salted hay,</p> +<p>Adrift along the winding shores,</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic28b.jpg" width = "316" height = "119" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>When favoring breezes deigned to blow</p> +<p>The square sail of the gundalow,</p> +<p>And idle lay the useless oars.</p> +<span class = "pagenum">29</span> +<a name = "page29" id = "page29"> </a> +<p>Our mother, while she turned her wheel</p> +<p>Or run the new-knit stocking-heel,</p> +<p>Told how the Indian hordes came down</p> +<p>At midnight on Cochecho town,</p> +<p>And how her own great-uncle bore</p> +<p>His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore.</p> +<p>Recalling, in her fitting phrase,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +So rich and picturesque and free,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +(The common unrhymed poetry</p> +<p>Of simple life and country ways,)</p> +<p>The story of her early days,—</p> +<p>She made us welcome to her home;</p> +<p>Old hearths grew wide to give us room;</p> +<p>We stole with her a frightened look</p> +<p>At the gray wizard’s conjuring-book,</p> +<p>The fame whereof went far and wide</p> +<p>Through all the simple country side;</p> +<p>We heard the hawks at twilight play,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">30</span> +<a name = "page30" id = "page30"> </a> +<p>The boat-horn on Piscataqua,</p> +<p>The loon’s weird laughter far away;</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic30.gif" width = "255" height = "265" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>We fished her little trout-brook, knew</p> +<p>What flowers in wood and meadow grew,</p> +<p>What sunny hillsides autumn-brown</p> +<p>She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down,</p> +<p>Saw where in sheltered cove and bay</p> +<p>The ducks’ black squadron anchored lay,</p> +<p>And heard the wild-geese calling loud</p> +<p>Beneath the gray November cloud.</p> +<span class = "pagenum">31</span> +<a name = "page31" id = "page31"> </a> +<p>Then, haply, with a look more grave,</p> +<p>And soberer tone, some tale she gave</p> +<p>From painful Sewell’s ancient tome,</p> +<p>Beloved in every Quaker home,</p> +<p>Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom,</p> +<p>Or Chalkley’s Journal, old and quaint,—</p> +<p>Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!—</p> +<p>Who, when the dreary calms prevailed,</p> +<p>And water-butt and bread-cask failed,</p> +<p>And cruel, hungry eyes pursued</p> +<p>His portly presence mad for food,</p> +<p>With dark hints muttered under breath</p> +<p>Of casting lots for life or death,</p> +<p>Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies,</p> +<p>To be himself the sacrifice.</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, as if to save</p> +<p>The good man from his living grave</p> +<p>A ripple on the water grew,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">32</span> +<a name = "page32" id = "page32"> </a> +<p>A school of porpoise flashed in view.</p> +<p>“Take, eat,” he said, “and be content;</p> +<p>These fishes in my stead are sent</p> +<p>By Him who gave the tangled ram</p> +<p>To spare the child of Abraham.”</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic32.gif" width = "321" height = "128" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Our uncle, innocent of books,</p> +<p>Was rich in lore of fields and brooks,</p> +<p>The ancient teachers never dumb</p> +<p>Of Nature’s unhoused lyceum.</p> +<p>In moons and tides and weather wise,</p> +<p>He read the clouds as prophecies,</p> +<p>And foul or fair could well divine,</p> +<p>By many an occult hint and sign,</p> +<p>Holding the cunning-warded keys,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">33</span> +<a name = "page33" id = "page33"> </a> +<p>To all the woodcraft mysteries;</p> +<p>Himself to Nature’s heart so near</p> +<p>That all her voices in his ear</p> +<p>Of beast or bird had meanings clear,</p> +<p>Like Apollonius of old,</p> +<p>Who knew the tales the sparrows told,</p> +<p>Or Hermes, who interpreted</p> +<p>What the sage cranes of Nilus said;</p> +<p>A simple, guileless, childlike man,</p> +<p>Content to live where life began;</p> +<p>Strong only on his native grounds,</p> +<p>The little world of sights and sounds</p> +<p>Whose girdle was the parish bounds,</p> +<p>Whereof his fondly partial pride</p> +<p>The common features magnified,</p> +<p>As Surrey hills to mountains grew</p> +<p>In White of Selborne’s loving view,—</p> +<p>He told how teal and loon he shot,</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">34</span> +<a name = "page34" id = "page34"> </a> + +<table class = "picture space" width = "331px"> +<tr> +<td class = "ell"> +<img src = "images/pic34a.gif" width = "117" height = "458" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +<td class = "leftpad"> +<p>And how the eagle’s eggs he got,</p> +<p>The feats on pond and river done,</p> +<p>The prodigies of rod and gun;</p> +<p>Till, warming with the tales he told,</p> +<p>Forgotten was the outside cold,</p> +<p>The bitter wind unheeded blew,</p> +<p>From ripening corn the pigeons flew,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic34b.gif" width = "331" height = "125" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p> </p> + +<span class = "pagenum">35</span> +<a name = "page35" id = "page35"> </a> + +<table class = "picture" width = "328px"> +<tr> +<td class = "rightpad"> +<p>The partridge drummed i’ the wood, the mink</p> +<p>Went fishing down the river-brink;</p> +<p>In fields with bean or clover gay,</p> +<p>The woodchuck, like a hermit gray,</p> +<p>Peered from the doorway of his cell;</p> +<p>The muskrat plied the mason’s trade,</p> +<p>And tier by tier his mud-walls laid;</p> +</td> +<td class = "ell"> +<img src = "images/pic35a.gif" width = "116" height = "456" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic35b.gif" width = "328" height = "124" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<span class = "pagenum">36</span> +<a name = "page36" id = "page36"> </a> +<p>And from the shagbark overhead</p> +<p>The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer</p> +<p>And voice in dreams I see and hear,—</p> +<p>The sweetest woman ever Fate</p> +<p>Perverse denied a household mate,</p> +<p>Who, lonely, homeless, not the less</p> +<p>Found peace in love’s unselfishness,</p> +<p>And welcome wheresoe’er she went,</p> +<p>A calm and gracious element,</p> +<p>Whose presence seemed the sweet income</p> +<p>And womanly atmosphere of home,—</p> +<p>Called up her girlhood memories,</p> +<p>The huskings and the apple-bees,</p> +<p>The sleigh-rides and the summer sails,</p> +<p>Weaving through all the poor details</p> +<p>And homespun warp of circumstance</p> +<span class = "pagenum">37</span> +<a name = "page37" id = "page37"> </a> +<p>A golden woof-thread of romance.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic37.gif" width = "338" height = "228" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>For well she kept her genial mood</p> +<p>And simple faith of maidenhood;</p> +<p>Before her still a cloud-land lay,</p> +<p>The mirage loomed across her way;</p> +<p>The morning dew, that dries so soon</p> +<p>With others, glistened at her noon;</p> +<p>Through years of toil and soil and care</p> +<p>From glossy tress to thin gray hair,</p> +<p>All unprofaned she held apart</p> +<p>The virgin fancies of the heart.</p> +<span class = "pagenum">38</span> +<a name = "page38" id = "page38"> </a> +<p>Be shame to him of woman born</p> +<p>Who hath for such but thought of scorn.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic38.gif" width = "224" height = "177" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>There, too, our elder sister plied</p> +<p>Her evening task the stand beside;</p> +<p>A full, rich nature, free to trust,</p> +<p>Truthful and almost sternly just,</p> +<p>Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act,</p> +<p>And make her generous thought a fact,</p> +<p>Keeping with many a light disguise</p> +<p>The secret of self-sacrifice.</p> +<p>O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best</p> +<p>That Heaven itself could give thee,—rest,</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">39</span> +<a name = "page39" id = "page39"> </a> + +<p>Rest from all bitter thoughts and things!</p> +<p class = "indent"> +How many a poor one’s blessing went</p> +<p class = "indent"> +With thee beneath the low green tent</p> +<p>Whose curtain never outward swings!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +As one who held herself a part</p> +<p>Of all she saw, and let her heart</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Against the household bosom lean,</p> +<p>Upon the motley-braided mat</p> +<p>Our youngest and our dearest sat,</p> +<p>Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Now bathed within the fadeless green</p> +<p>And holy peace of Paradise.</p> +<p>O, looking from some heavenly hill,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Or from the shade of saintly palms,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Or silver reach of river calms,</p> +<p>Do those large eyes behold me still?</p> +<p>With me one little year ago:—</p> +<span class = "pagenum">40</span> +<a name = "page40" id = "page40"> </a> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic40a.gif" width = "218" height = "79" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>The chill weight of the winter snow</p> +<p class = "indent"> +For months upon her grave has lain;</p> +<p>And now, when summer south-winds blow,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And brier and harebell bloom again,</p> +<p>I tread the pleasant paths we trod,</p> +<p>I see the violet-sprinkled sod</p> +<p>Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak</p> +<p>The hillside flowers she loved to seek,</p> +<p>Yet following me where’er I went</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic40b.gif" width = "334" height = "220" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">41</span> +<a name = "page41" id = "page41"> </a> +<p>With dark eyes full of love’s content.</p> +<p>The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills</p> +<p>The air with sweetness; all the hills</p> +<p>Stretch green to June’s unclouded sky;</p> +<p>But still I wait with ear and eye</p> +<p>For something gone which should be nigh,</p> +<p>A loss in all familiar things,</p> +<p>In flower that blooms, and bird that sings.</p> +<p>And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Am I not richer than of old?</p> +<p>Safe in thy immortality,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +What change can reach the wealth I hold?</p> +<p class = "indent"> +What chance can mar the pearl and gold</p> +<p>Thy love hath left in trust with me?</p> +<p>And while in life’s late afternoon,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Where cool and long the shadows grow,</p> +<p>I walk to meet the night that soon</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Shall shape and shadow overflow,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">42</span> +<a name = "page42" id = "page42"> </a> +<p>I cannot feel that thou art far,</p> +<p>Since near at need the angels are;</p> +<p>And when the sunset gates unbar,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Shall I not see thee waiting stand,</p> +<p>And, white against the evening star,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The welcome of thy beckoning hand?</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Brisk wielder of the birch and rule,</p> +<p>The master of the district school</p> +<p>Held at the fire his favored place;</p> +<p>Its warm glow lit a laughing face</p> +<p>Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic42.gif" width = "311" height = "190" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">43</span> +<a name = "page43" id = "page43"> </a> +<p>The uncertain prophecy of beard.</p> +<p>He teased the mitten-blinded cat,</p> +<p>Played cross-pins on my uncle’s hat,</p> +<p>Sang songs, and told us what befalls</p> +<p>In classic Dartmouth’s college halls.</p> +<p>Born the wild Northern hills among,</p> +<p>From whence his yeoman father wrung</p> +<p>By patient toil subsistence scant,</p> +<p>Not competence and yet not want,</p> +<p>He early gained the power to pay</p> +<p>His cheerful, self-reliant way;</p> +<p>Could doff at ease his scholar’s gown</p> +<p>To peddle wares from town to town;</p> +<p>Or through the long vacation’s reach</p> +<p>In lonely lowland districts teach,</p> +<p>Where all the droll experience found</p> +<p>At stranger hearths in boarding round,</p> +<p>The moonlit skater’s keen delight,</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">44</span> +<a name = "page44" id = "page44"> </a> + +<p>The sleigh-drive through the frosty night,</p> +<p>The rustic party, with its rough</p> +<p>Accompaniment of blind-man’s-buff,</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic44.jpg" width = "320" height = "197" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>And whirling plate, and forfeits paid,</p> +<p>His winter task a pastime made.</p> +<p>Happy the snow-locked homes wherein</p> +<p>He tuned his merry violin,</p> +<p>Or played the athlete in the barn,</p> +<p>Or held the good dame’s winding yarn,</p> +<p>Or mirth-provoking versions told</p> +<p>Of classic legends rare and old,</p> +<p>Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome</p> +<span class = "pagenum">45</span> +<a name = "page45" id = "page45"> </a> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic45.gif" width = "223" height = "201" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Had all the commonplace of home,</p> +<p>And little seemed at best the odds</p> +<p>’Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods;</p> +<p>Where Pindus-born <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelled 'Arachthus' in some editions">Araxes</ins> took</p> +<p>The guise of any grist-mill brook,</p> +<p>And dread Olympus at his will</p> +<p>Became a huckleberry hill.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +A careless boy that night he seemed;</p> +<p class = "indent"> +But at his desk he had the look</p> +<p>And air of one who wisely schemed,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">46</span> +<a name = "page46" id = "page46"> </a> +<p class = "indent"> +And hostage from the future took</p> +<p class = "indent"> +In trainéd thought and lore of book.</p> +<p>Large-brained, clear-eyed,—of such as he</p> +<p>Shall Freedom’s young apostles be,</p> +<p>Who, following in War’s bloody trail,</p> +<p>Shall every lingering wrong assail;</p> +<p>All chains from limb and spirit strike,</p> +<p>Uplift the black and white alike;</p> +<p>Scatter before their swift advance</p> +<p>The darkness and the ignorance,</p> +<p>The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth,</p> +<p>Which nurtured Treason’s monstrous growth,</p> +<p>Made murder pastime, and the hell</p> +<p>Of prison-torture possible;</p> +<p>The cruel lie of caste refute,</p> +<p>Old forms remould, and substitute</p> +<p>For Slavery’s lash the freeman’s will,</p> +<p>For blind routine, wise-handed skill;</p> +<span class = "pagenum">47</span> +<a name = "page47" id = "page47"> </a> +<p>A school-house plant on every hill,</p> +<p>Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence</p> +<p>The quick wires of intelligence;</p> +<p>Till North and South together brought</p> +<p>Shall own the same electric thought,</p> +<p>In peace a common flag salute,</p> +<p>And, side by side in labor’s free</p> +<p>And unresentful rivalry,</p> +<p>Harvest the fields wherein they fought.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic47.gif" width = "259" height = "91" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Another guest that winter night</p> +<p>Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light.</p> +<p>Unmarked by time, and yet not young,</p> +<p>The honeyed music of her tongue</p> +<p>And words of meekness scarcely told</p> +<p>A nature passionate and bold,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">48</span> +<a name = "page48" id = "page48"> </a> +<p>Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide,</p> +<p>Its milder features dwarfed beside</p> +<p>Her unbent will’s majestic pride.</p> +<p>She sat among us, at the best,</p> +<p>A not unfeared, half-welcome guest,</p> +<p>Rebuking with her cultured phrase</p> +<p>Our homeliness of words and ways.</p> +<p>A certain pard-like, treacherous grace</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash;</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And under low brows, black with night,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Rayed out at times a dangerous light;</p> +<p>The sharp heat-lightnings of her face</p> +<p>Presaging ill to him whom Fate</p> +<p>Condemned to share her love or hate.</p> +<p>A woman tropical, intense</p> +<p>In thought and act, in soul and sense,</p> +<p>She blended in a like degree</p> +<span class = "pagenum">49</span> +<a name = "page49" id = "page49"> </a> +<p>The vixen and the devotee,</p> +<p>Revealing with each freak or feint</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The temper of Petruchio’s Kate,</p> +<p>The raptures of Siena’s saint.</p> +<p>Her tapering hand and rounded wrist</p> +<p>Had facile power to form a fist;</p> +<p>The warm, dark languish of her eyes</p> +<p>Was never safe from wrath’s surprise.</p> +<p>Brows saintly calm and lips devout</p> +<p>Knew every change of scowl and pout;</p> +<p>And the sweet voice had notes more high</p> +<p>And shrill for social battle-cry.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Since then what old cathedral town</p> +<p>Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown,</p> +<p>What convent-gate has held its lock</p> +<p>Against the challenge of her knock!</p> +<p>Through Smyrna’s plague-hushed thoroughfares,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">50</span> +<a name = "page50" id = "page50"> </a> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic50.gif" width = "326" height = "275" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Up sea-set Malta’s rocky stairs,</p> +<p>Gray olive slopes of hills that hem</p> +<p>Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem,</p> +<p>Or startling on her desert throne</p> +<p>The crazy Queen of Lebanon</p> +<p>With claims fantastic as her own,</p> +<p>Her tireless feet have held their way;</p> +<p>And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray,</p> +<p>She watches under Eastern skies,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">51</span> +<a name = "page51" id = "page51"> </a> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic51.jpg" width = "316" height = "194" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p class = "indent"> +With hope each day renewed and fresh,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The Lord’s quick coming in the flesh,</p> +<p>Whereof she dreams and prophesies!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Where’er her troubled path may be,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The Lord’s sweet pity with her go!</p> +<p>The outward wayward life we see,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The hidden springs we may not know.</p> +<p>Nor is it given us to discern</p> +<p class = "indent"> +What threads the fatal sisters spun,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Through what ancestral years has run</p> +<span class = "pagenum">52</span> +<a name = "page52" id = "page52"> </a> +<p>The sorrow with the woman born,</p> +<p>What forged her cruel chain of moods,</p> +<p>What set her feet in solitudes,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And held the love within her mute,</p> +<p>What mingled madness in the blood,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +A life-long discord and annoy,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Water of tears with oil of joy,</p> +<p>And hid within the folded bud</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Perversities of flower and fruit.</p> +<p>It is not ours to separate</p> +<p>The tangled skein of will and fate,</p> +<p>To show what metes and bounds should stand</p> +<p>Upon the soul’s debatable land,</p> +<p>And between choice and Providence</p> +<p>Divide the circle of events;</p> +<p>But He who knows our frame is just,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Merciful, and compassionate,</p> +<p>And full of sweet assurances</p> +<span class = "pagenum">53</span> +<a name = "page53" id = "page53"> </a> +<p>And hope for all the language is,</p> +<p>That He remembereth we are dust!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +At last the great logs, crumbling low,</p> +<p>Sent out a dull and duller glow,</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic53.jpg" width = "328" height = "216" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>The bull’s-eye watch that hung in view,</p> +<p>Ticking its weary circuit through,</p> +<p>Pointed with mutely-warning sign</p> +<p>Its black hand to the hour of nine.</p> +<p>That sign the pleasant circle broke:</p> +<p>My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">54</span> +<a name = "page54" id = "page54"> </a> +<p>Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray,</p> +<p>And laid it tenderly away,</p> +<p>Then roused himself to safely cover</p> +<p>The dull red brands with ashes over.</p> +<p>And while, with care, our mother laid</p> +<p>The work aside, her steps she stayed</p> +<p>One moment, seeking to express</p> +<p>Her grateful sense of happiness</p> +<p>For food and shelter, warmth and health,</p> +<p>And love’s contentment more than wealth,</p> +<p>With simple wishes (not the weak,</p> +<p>Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek,</p> +<p>But such as warm the generous heart,</p> +<p>O’er-prompt to do with Heaven its part)</p> +<p>That none might lack, that bitter night,</p> +<p>For bread and clothing, warmth and light.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Within our beds awhile we heard</p> +<span class = "pagenum">55</span> +<a name = "page55" id = "page55"> </a> +<p>The wind that round the gables roared,</p> +<p>With now and then a ruder shock,</p> +<p>Which made our very bedsteads rock.</p> +<p>We heard the loosened clapboards tost,</p> +<p>The board-nails snapping in the frost;</p> +<p>And on us, through the unplastered wall,</p> +<p>Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall.</p> +<p>But sleep stole on, as sleep will do</p> +<p>When hearts are light and life is new;</p> +<p>Faint and more faint the murmurs grew,</p> +<p>Till in the summer-land of dreams</p> +<p>They softened to the sound of streams,</p> +<p>Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars,</p> +<p>And lapsing waves on quiet shores.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic55.gif" width = "317" height = "123" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<span class = "pagenum">56</span> +<a name = "page56" id = "page56"> </a> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic56.gif" width = "332" height = "279" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Next morn we wakened with the shout</p> +<p>Of merry voices high and clear;</p> +<p>And saw the teamsters drawing near</p> +<p>To break the drifted highways out.</p> +<p>Down the long hillside treading slow</p> +<p>We saw the half-buried oxen go,</p> +<p>Shaking the snow from heads uptost,</p> +<p>Their straining nostrils white with frost.</p> +<p>Before our door the straggling train</p> +<span class = "pagenum">57</span> +<a name = "page57" id = "page57"> </a> +<p>Drew up, an added team to gain.</p> +<p>The elders threshed their hands a-cold,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes</p> +<p class = "indent"> +From lip to lip; the younger folks</p> +<p>Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled,</p> +<p>Then toiled again the cavalcade</p> +<p class = "indent"> +O’er windy hill, through clogged ravine,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And woodland paths that wound between</p> +<p>Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed.</p> + +<table class = "picture" width = "329px"> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic57a.gif" width = "329" height = "162" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width = "256px"> +<p>From every barn a team afoot,</p> +<p>At every house a new recruit,</p> +<p>Where, drawn by Nature’s subtlest law,</p> +<p>Haply the watchful young men saw</p> +</td> +<td class = "page57" width = "73px"> </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<span class = "pagenum">58</span> +<a name = "page58" id = "page58"> </a> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic58a.gif" width = "331" height = "165" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>Sweet doorway pictures of the curls</p> +<p>And curious eyes of merry girls,</p> +<p>Lifting their hands in mock defence</p> +<p>Against the snow-ball’s compliments,</p> +<p>And reading in each missive tost</p> +<p>The charm with Eden never lost.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +We heard once more the sleigh-bells’ sound;</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And, following where the teamsters led,</p> +<p>The wise old Doctor went his round,</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic58b.gif" width = "189" height = "93" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">59</span> +<a name = "page59" id = "page59"> </a> + +<p>Just pausing at our door to say,</p> +<p>In the brief autocratic way</p> +<p>Of one who, prompt at Duty’s call,</p> +<p>Was free to urge her claim on all,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +That some poor neighbor sick abed</p> +<p>At night our mother’s aid would need.</p> +<p>For, one in generous thought and deed,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +What mattered in the sufferer’s sight</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The Quaker matron’s inward light,</p> +<p>The Doctor’s mail of Calvin’s creed?</p> +<p>All hearts confess the saints elect</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Who, twain in faith, in love agree,</p> +<p>And melt not in an acid sect</p> +<p>The Christian pearl of charity!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +So days went on: a week had passed</p> +<p>Since the great world was heard from last.</p> +<p>The Almanac we studied o’er,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">60</span> +<a name = "page60" id = "page60"> </a> +<p>Read and reread our little store,</p> +<p>Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score;</p> +<p>One harmless novel, mostly hid</p> +<p>From younger eyes, a book forbid,</p> +<p>And poetry, (or good or bad,</p> +<p>A single book was all we had,)</p> +<p>Where Ellwood’s meek, drab-skirted Muse,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +A stranger to the heathen Nine,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine,</p> +<p>The wars of David and the Jews.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic60.gif" width = "186" height = "163" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></p> + +<p>At last the floundering carrier bore</p> +<p>The village paper to our door.</p> +<p>Lo! broadening outward as we read,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">61</span> +<a name = "page61" id = "page61"> </a> +<p>To warmer zones the horizon spread;</p> +<p>In panoramic length unrolled</p> +<p>We saw the marvels that it told.</p> +<p>Before us passed the painted Creeks,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And daft McGregor on his raids</p> +<p class = "indent"> +In Costa Rica’s everglades.</p> + +<table class = "picture" width = "227px"> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<img src = "images/pic61a.gif" width = "330" height = "227" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>And up Taygetos winding slow</p> +<p>Rode Ypsilanti’s Mainote Greeks,</p> +<p>A Turk’s head at each saddle-bow!</p> +<p>Welcome to us its week-old news,</p> +<p>Its corner for the rustic Muse,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">62</span> +<a name = "page62" id = "page62"> </a> +<p class = "indent"> +Its monthly gauge of snow and rain,</p> +</td> +<td class = "page61" width = "65px"> </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Its record, mingling in a breath</p> +<p>The wedding knell and dirge of death;</p> +<p>Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale;</p> +<p>The latest culprit sent to jail;</p> +<p>Its hue and cry of stolen and lost,</p> +<p>Its vendue sales and goods at cost,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And traffic calling loud for gain.</p> +<p>We felt the stir of hall and street,</p> +<p>The pulse of life that round us beat;</p> +<p>The chill embargo of the snow</p> +<p>Was melted in the genial glow;</p> +<p>Wide swung again our ice-locked door,</p> +<p>And all the world was ours once more!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Clasp, Angel of the backward look</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And folded wings of ashen gray</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And voice of echoes far away,</p> +<span class = "pagenum">63</span> +<a name = "page63" id = "page63"> </a> +<p>The brazen covers of thy book;</p> +<p>The weird palimpsest old and vast,</p> +<p>Wherein thou hid’st the spectral past;</p> +<p>Where, closely mingling, pale and glow</p> +<p>The characters of joy and woe;</p> +<p>The monographs of outlived years,</p> +<p>Or smile-illumed or dim with tears,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Green hills of life that slope to death,</p> +<p>And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees</p> +<p>Shade off to mournful cypresses</p> +<p class = "indent"> +With the white amaranths underneath.</p> +<p>Even while I look, I can but heed</p> +<p class = "indent"> +The restless sands’ incessant fall,</p> +<p>Importunate hours that hours succeed,</p> +<p>Each clamorous with its own sharp need,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +And duty keeping pace with all.</p> +<p>Shut down and clasp the heavy lids;</p> +<p>I hear again the voice that bids</p> +<span class = "pagenum">64</span> +<a name = "page64" id = "page64"> </a> +<p>The dreamer leave his dream midway</p> +<p>For larger hopes and graver fears:</p> +<p>Life greatens in these later years,</p> +<p>The century’s aloe flowers to-day!</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Yet, haply, in some lull of life,</p> +<p>Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,</p> +<p>The worldling’s eyes shall gather dew,</p> +<p class = "indent"> +Dreaming in throngful city ways</p> +<p>Of winter joys his boyhood knew;</p> +<p>And dear and early friends—the few</p> +<p>Who yet remain—shall pause to view</p> +<p class = "indent"> +These Flemish pictures of old days;</p> +<p>Sit with me by the homestead hearth,</p> +<p>And stretch the hands of memory forth</p> +<p class = "indent"> +To warm them at the wood-fire’s blaze!</p> +<p>And thanks untraced to lips unknown</p> +<p>Shall greet me like the odors blown</p> +<span class = "pagenum">65</span> +<a name = "page65" id = "page65"> </a> +<p>From unseen meadows newly mown,</p> +<p>Or lilies floating in some pond,</p> +<p>Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond;</p> +<p>The traveller owns the grateful sense</p> +<p>Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,</p> +<p>And, pausing, takes with forehead bare</p> +<p>The benediction of the air.</p> + +<p class = "picture"> +<img src = "images/pic65.gif" width = "278" height = "197" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"> +</p> + +<p> <br> </p> + +<hr> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<i>Pages 34-35</i><br> +<br> +<a href = "images/midbook.jpg"> +<img src = "images/midbookthumb.gif" width = "359" height = "303" +alt = "picture" title = "picture"></a> +</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Snow-Bound, by John Greenleaf Whittier + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOW-BOUND *** + +***** This file should be named 20226-h.htm or 20226-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/2/2/20226/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Newman, Chuck Greif and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Snow-Bound + A Winter Idyll + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Illustrator: Harry Fenn, Engraved by A. V. S. Anthony and W. J. Linton + +Release Date: December 30, 2006 [EBook #20226] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOW-BOUND *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Newman, Chuck Greif and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + * * * * * + + SNOW-BOUND + + * * * * * + + + SNOW-BOUND + + A Winter Idyl + + By JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + + _With Illustrations_ + + [Illustration: Portrait] + + +Boston +JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, +Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. +1872 + + +Entered according to Act of Congress, +in the years 1865 and 1867, by +JOHN G. WHITTIER, +in the Clerk's Office of the District Court +of the District of Massachusetts. + + [Illustration: Publisher's Device] + + + + +In the present edition of "Snow-Bound," the Illustrations are +drawn by Mr. HARRY FENN from sketches made by him during a visit +to the scene of the poem. The engraving has been done by Mr. +A. V. S. ANTHONY, under whose supervision the book has been +prepared, and Mr. W. J. LINTON. + +The Publishers are confident that the drawing, engraving, and +printing will commend themselves to the approval of the critic and +the connoisseur; while to those unfamiliar with the _locale_ of +the poem, the following note from the author will be the best +guaranty of the artists' fidelity. + +_It gives me pleasure to commend the illustrations which accompany +this edition of "Snow-Bound," for the faithfulness with which they +present the spirit and the details of the passages and places that +the artist has designed them to accompany._ + +J. G. W. + + + + + To + _The Memory_ + + Of + The Household It Describes, + + _This Poem Is Dedicated_ + + By + The Author. + + "As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good + Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the + Divine light of the Sun, but also by our common VVood Fire: and + as the Celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our + Fire of VVood doth the same." + + COR. AGRIPPA, _Occult Philosophy_, Book I. chap. v. + + + "Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, + And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. + The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet + Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit + Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed + In a tumultuous privacy of storm." + + EMERSON. + + + + + [Illustration] + + +SNOW BOUND. + + The sun that brief December day + Rose cheerless over hills of gray, + And, darkly circled, gave at noon + A sadder light than waning moon. + Slow tracing down the thickening sky + Its mute and ominous prophecy, + A portent seeming less than threat, + It sank from sight before it set. + A chill no coat, however stout, + Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, + A hard, dull bitterness of cold, + That checked, mid-vein, the circling race + Of life-blood in the sharpened face, + The coming of the snow-storm told. + The wind blew east: we heard the roar + Of Ocean on his wintry shore, + And felt the strong pulse throbbing there + Beat with low rhythm our inland air. + + Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,-- + Brought in the wood from out of doors, + Littered the stalls, and from the mows + Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows; + Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; + And, sharply clashing horn on horn, + Impatient down the stanchion rows + The cattle shake their walnut bows; + While, peering from his early perch + Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, + The cock his crested helmet bent + And down his querulous challenge sent. + + [Illustration] + + Unwarmed by any sunset light + The gray day darkened into night, + A night made hoary with the swarm + And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, + As zigzag wavering to and fro + Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: + And ere the early bedtime came + The white drift piled the window-frame, + And through the glass the clothes-line posts + Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. + + [Illustration] + + So all night long the storm roared on: + The morning broke without a sun; + In tiny spherule traced with lines + Of Nature's geometric signs, + In starry flake, and pellicle, + All day the hoary meteor fell; + And, when the second morning shone, + We looked upon a world unknown, + On nothing we could call our own. + Around the glistening wonder bent + The blue walls of the firmament, + No cloud above, no earth below,-- + A universe of sky and snow! + The old familiar sights of ours + Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers + Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood, + Or garden wall, or belt of wood; + A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, + A fenceless drift what once was road; + The bridle post an old man sat + With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; + The well-curb had a Chinese roof; + [Illustration] + And even the long sweep, high aloof, + In its slant splendor, seemed to tell + Of Pisa's leaning miracle. + + A prompt, decisive man, no breath + Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!" + Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy + Count such a summons less than joy?) + Our buskins on our feet we drew; + With mittened hands, and caps drawn low, + To guard our necks and ears from snow, + We cut the solid whiteness through. + [Illustration] + And, where the drift was deepest, made + A tunnel walled and overlaid + With dazzling crystal: we had read + Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave, + And to our own his name we gave, + With many a wish the luck were ours + To test his lamp's supernal powers. + [Illustration] + We reached the barn with merry din, + And roused the prisoned brutes within. + The old horse thrust his long head out, + And grave with wonder gazed about; + The cock his lusty greeting said, + And forth his speckled harem led; + The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked, + And mild reproach of hunger looked; + The horned patriarch of the sheep, + Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, + Shook his sage head with gesture mute, + And emphasized with stamp of foot. + + All day the gusty north-wind bore + The loosening drift its breath before; + Low circling round its southern zone, + The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone. + No church-bell lent its Christian tone + To the savage air, no social smoke + Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. + A solitude made more intense + By dreary voiced elements, + The shrieking of the mindless wind, + The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind, + And on the glass the unmeaning beat + Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. + [Illustration] + Beyond the circle of our hearth + No welcome sound of toil or mirth + Unbound the spell, and testified + Of human life and thought outside. + We minded that the sharpest ear + The buried brooklet could not hear, + The music of whose liquid lip + Had been to us companionship, + And, in our lonely life, had grown + To have an almost human tone. + As night drew on, and, from the crest + Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, + The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank + From sight beneath the smothering bank, + We piled, with care, our nightly stack + Of wood against the chimney-back,-- + [Illustration] + The oaken log, green, huge, and thick, + And on its top the stout back-stick; + The knotty forestick laid apart, + And filled between with curious art + The ragged brush; then, hovering near, + We watched the first red blaze appear, + Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam + On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, + Until the old, rude-furnished room + Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom; + While radiant with a mimic flame + Outside the sparkling drift became, + And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree + Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. + The crane and pendent trammels showed, + The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed; + While childish fancy, prompt to tell + The meaning of the miracle, + Whispered the old rhyme: "_Under the tree, + When fire outdoors burns merrily, + There the witches are making tea._" + + The moon above the eastern wood + Shone at its full; the hill-range stood + [Illustration] + Transfigured in the silver flood, + Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, + Dead white, save where some sharp ravine + Took shadow, or the sombre green + Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black + Against the whiteness at their back. + For such a world and such a night + Most fitting that unwarming light, + Which only seemed where'er it fell + To make the coldness visible. + + Shut in from all the world without, + We sat the clean-winged hearth about, + Content to let the north-wind roar + In baffled rage at pane and door, + While the red logs before us beat + The frost-line back with tropic heat; + And ever, when a louder blast + Shook beam and rafter as it passed, + The merrier up its roaring draught + The great throat of the chimney laughed, + The house-dog on his paws outspread + Laid to the fire his drowsy head, + The cat's dark silhouette on the wall + A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; + And, for the winter fireside meet, + Between the andirons' straddling feet, + The mug of cider simmered slow, + The apples sputtered in a row, + And, close at hand, the basket stood + With nuts from brown October's wood. + + [Illustration] + + What matter how the night behaved? + What matter how the north-wind raved? + Blow high, blow low, not all its snow + Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. + O Time and Change!--with hair as gray + As was my sire's that winter day, + How strange it seems, with so much gone + Of life and love, to still live on! + Ah, brother! only I and thou + Are left of all that circle now,-- + The dear home faces whereupon + That fitful firelight paled and shone. + Henceforward, listen as we will, + The voices of that hearth are still; + Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, + Those lighted faces smile no more. + We tread the paths their feet have worn, + [Illustration] + We sit beneath their orchard-trees, + We hear, like them, the hum of bees + And rustle of the bladed corn; + We turn the pages that they read, + Their written words we linger o'er, + But in the sun they cast no shade, + No voice is heard, no sign is made, + No step is on the conscious floor! + Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, + (Since He who knows our need is just,) + That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. + [Illustration] + Alas for him who never sees + The stars shine through his cypress-trees! + Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, + Nor looks to see the breaking day + Across the mournful marbles play! + Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, + The truth to flesh and sense unknown, + That Life is ever lord of Death, + And Love can never lose its own! + + We sped the time with stories old, + Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, + Or stammered from our school-book lore + "The Chief of Gambia's golden shore." + How often since, when all the land + Was clay in Slavery's shaping hand, + As if a trumpet called, I've heard + Dame Mercy Warren's rousing word: + "_Does not the voice of reason cry, + Claim the first right which Nature gave, + From the red scourge of bondage fly, + Nor deign to live a burdened slave!_" + Our father rode again his ride + On Memphremagog's wooded side; + [Illustration] + Sat down again to moose and samp + In trapper's hut and Indian camp; + Lived o'er the old idyllic ease + Beneath St. Francois' hemlock-trees; + Again for him the moonlight shone + On Norman cap and bodiced zone; + Again he heard the violin play + Which led the village dance away, + And mingled in its merry whirl + The grandam and the laughing girl. + Or, nearer home, our steps he led + Where Salisbury's level marshes spread + [Illustration] + Mile-wide as flies the laden bee; + Where merry mowers, hale and strong, + Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along + The low green prairies of the sea. + We shared the fishing off Boar's Head, + And round the rocky Isles of Shoals + The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals; + The chowder on the sand-beach made, + Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, + With spoons of clam-shell from the pot. + [Illustration] + We heard the tales of witchcraft old, + And dream and sign and marvel told + To sleepy listeners as they lay + Stretched idly on the salted hay, + Adrift along the winding shores, + [Illustration] + When favoring breezes deigned to blow + The square sail of the gundalow, + And idle lay the useless oars. + + Our mother, while she turned her wheel + Or run the new-knit stocking-heel, + Told how the Indian hordes came down + At midnight on Cochecho town, + And how her own great-uncle bore + His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. + Recalling, in her fitting phrase, + So rich and picturesque and free, + (The common unrhymed poetry + Of simple life and country ways,) + The story of her early days,-- + She made us welcome to her home; + Old hearths grew wide to give us room; + We stole with her a frightened look + At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, + The fame whereof went far and wide + Through all the simple country side; + We heard the hawks at twilight play, + The boat-horn on Piscataqua, + The loon's weird laughter far away; + [Illustration] + We fished her little trout-brook, knew + What flowers in wood and meadow grew, + What sunny hillsides autumn-brown + She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down, + Saw where in sheltered cove and bay + The ducks' black squadron anchored lay, + And heard the wild-geese calling loud + Beneath the gray November cloud. + + Then, haply, with a look more grave, + And soberer tone, some tale she gave + From painful Sewell's ancient tome, + Beloved in every Quaker home, + Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, + Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint,-- + Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!-- + Who, when the dreary calms prevailed, + And water-butt and bread-cask failed, + And cruel, hungry eyes pursued + His portly presence mad for food, + With dark hints muttered under breath + Of casting lots for life or death, + Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies, + To be himself the sacrifice. + Then, suddenly, as if to save + The good man from his living grave + A ripple on the water grew, + A school of porpoise flashed in view. + "Take, eat," he said, "and be content; + These fishes in my stead are sent + By Him who gave the tangled ram + To spare the child of Abraham." + [Illustration] + Our uncle, innocent of books, + Was rich in lore of fields and brooks, + The ancient teachers never dumb + Of Nature's unhoused lyceum. + In moons and tides and weather wise, + He read the clouds as prophecies, + And foul or fair could well divine, + By many an occult hint and sign, + Holding the cunning-warded keys, + To all the woodcraft mysteries; + Himself to Nature's heart so near + That all her voices in his ear + Of beast or bird had meanings clear, + Like Apollonius of old, + Who knew the tales the sparrows told, + Or Hermes, who interpreted + What the sage cranes of Nilus said; + A simple, guileless, childlike man, + Content to live where life began; + Strong only on his native grounds, + The little world of sights and sounds + Whose girdle was the parish bounds, + Whereof his fondly partial pride + The common features magnified, + As Surrey hills to mountains grew + In White of Selborne's loving view,-- + He told how teal and loon he shot, + [Illustration] + And how the eagle's eggs he got, + The feats on pond and river done, + The prodigies of rod and gun; + Till, warming with the tales he told, + Forgotten was the outside cold, + The bitter wind unheeded blew, + From ripening corn the pigeons flew, + [Illustration] + The partridge drummed i' the wood, the mink + Went fishing down the river-brink; + In fields with bean or clover gay, + The woodchuck, like a hermit gray, + Peered from the doorway of his cell; + The muskrat plied the mason's trade, + And tier by tier his mud-walls laid; + And from the shagbark overhead + The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. + + Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer + And voice in dreams I see and hear,-- + The sweetest woman ever Fate + Perverse denied a household mate, + Who, lonely, homeless, not the less + Found peace in love's unselfishness, + And welcome wheresoe'er she went, + A calm and gracious element, + Whose presence seemed the sweet income + And womanly atmosphere of home,-- + Called up her girlhood memories, + The huskings and the apple-bees, + The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, + Weaving through all the poor details + And homespun warp of circumstance + A golden woof-thread of romance. + [Illustration] + For well she kept her genial mood + And simple faith of maidenhood; + Before her still a cloud-land lay, + The mirage loomed across her way; + The morning dew, that dries so soon + With others, glistened at her noon; + Through years of toil and soil and care + From glossy tress to thin gray hair, + All unprofaned she held apart + The virgin fancies of the heart. + Be shame to him of woman born + Who hath for such but thought of scorn. + + [Illustration] + + There, too, our elder sister plied + Her evening task the stand beside; + A full, rich nature, free to trust, + Truthful and almost sternly just, + Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, + And make her generous thought a fact, + Keeping with many a light disguise + The secret of self-sacrifice. + O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best + That Heaven itself could give thee,--rest, + Rest from all bitter thoughts and things! + How many a poor one's blessing went + With thee beneath the low green tent + Whose curtain never outward swings! + + As one who held herself a part + Of all she saw, and let her heart + Against the household bosom lean, + Upon the motley-braided mat + Our youngest and our dearest sat, + Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, + Now bathed within the fadeless green + And holy peace of Paradise. + O, looking from some heavenly hill, + Or from the shade of saintly palms, + Or silver reach of river calms, + Do those large eyes behold me still? + With me one little year ago:-- + [Illustration] + The chill weight of the winter snow + For months upon her grave has lain; + And now, when summer south-winds blow, + And brier and harebell bloom again, + I tread the pleasant paths we trod, + I see the violet-sprinkled sod + Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak + The hillside flowers she loved to seek, + Yet following me where'er I went + [Illustration] + With dark eyes full of love's content. + The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills + The air with sweetness; all the hills + Stretch green to June's unclouded sky; + But still I wait with ear and eye + For something gone which should be nigh, + A loss in all familiar things, + In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. + And yet, dear heart! remembering thee, + Am I not richer than of old? + Safe in thy immortality, + What change can reach the wealth I hold? + What chance can mar the pearl and gold + Thy love hath left in trust with me? + And while in life's late afternoon, + Where cool and long the shadows grow, + I walk to meet the night that soon + Shall shape and shadow overflow, + I cannot feel that thou art far, + Since near at need the angels are; + And when the sunset gates unbar, + Shall I not see thee waiting stand, + And, white against the evening star, + The welcome of thy beckoning hand? + + Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, + The master of the district school + Held at the fire his favored place; + Its warm glow lit a laughing face + Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared + [Illustration] + The uncertain prophecy of beard. + He teased the mitten-blinded cat, + Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat, + Sang songs, and told us what befalls + In classic Dartmouth's college halls. + Born the wild Northern hills among, + From whence his yeoman father wrung + By patient toil subsistence scant, + Not competence and yet not want, + He early gained the power to pay + His cheerful, self-reliant way; + Could doff at ease his scholar's gown + To peddle wares from town to town; + Or through the long vacation's reach + In lonely lowland districts teach, + Where all the droll experience found + At stranger hearths in boarding round, + The moonlit skater's keen delight, + The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, + The rustic party, with its rough + Accompaniment of blind-man's-buff, + [Illustration] + And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, + His winter task a pastime made. + Happy the snow-locked homes wherein + He tuned his merry violin, + Or played the athlete in the barn, + Or held the good dame's winding yarn, + Or mirth-provoking versions told + Of classic legends rare and old, + Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome + [Illustration] + Had all the commonplace of home, + And little seemed at best the odds + 'Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods; + Where Pindus-born Araxes took + The guise of any grist-mill brook, + And dread Olympus at his will + Became a huckleberry hill. + + A careless boy that night he seemed; + But at his desk he had the look + And air of one who wisely schemed, + And hostage from the future took + In trained thought and lore of book. + Large-brained, clear-eyed,--of such as he + Shall Freedom's young apostles be, + Who, following in War's bloody trail, + Shall every lingering wrong assail; + All chains from limb and spirit strike, + Uplift the black and white alike; + Scatter before their swift advance + The darkness and the ignorance, + The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth, + Which nurtured Treason's monstrous growth, + Made murder pastime, and the hell + Of prison-torture possible; + The cruel lie of caste refute, + Old forms remould, and substitute + For Slavery's lash the freeman's will, + For blind routine, wise-handed skill; + A school-house plant on every hill, + Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence + The quick wires of intelligence; + Till North and South together brought + Shall own the same electric thought, + In peace a common flag salute, + And, side by side in labor's free + And unresentful rivalry, + Harvest the fields wherein they fought. + + [Illustration] + + Another guest that winter night + Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light. + Unmarked by time, and yet not young, + The honeyed music of her tongue + And words of meekness scarcely told + A nature passionate and bold, + Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide, + Its milder features dwarfed beside + Her unbent will's majestic pride. + She sat among us, at the best, + A not unfeared, half-welcome guest, + Rebuking with her cultured phrase + Our homeliness of words and ways. + A certain pard-like, treacherous grace + Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash, + Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash; + And under low brows, black with night, + Rayed out at times a dangerous light; + The sharp heat-lightnings of her face + Presaging ill to him whom Fate + Condemned to share her love or hate. + A woman tropical, intense + In thought and act, in soul and sense, + She blended in a like degree + The vixen and the devotee, + Revealing with each freak or feint + The temper of Petruchio's Kate, + The raptures of Siena's saint. + Her tapering hand and rounded wrist + Had facile power to form a fist; + The warm, dark languish of her eyes + Was never safe from wrath's surprise. + Brows saintly calm and lips devout + Knew every change of scowl and pout; + And the sweet voice had notes more high + And shrill for social battle-cry. + + Since then what old cathedral town + Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, + What convent-gate has held its lock + Against the challenge of her knock! + Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares, + [Illustration] + Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs, + Gray olive slopes of hills that hem + Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, + Or startling on her desert throne + The crazy Queen of Lebanon + With claims fantastic as her own, + Her tireless feet have held their way; + And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray, + She watches under Eastern skies, + [Illustration] + With hope each day renewed and fresh, + The Lord's quick coming in the flesh, + Whereof she dreams and prophesies! + + Where'er her troubled path may be, + The Lord's sweet pity with her go! + The outward wayward life we see, + The hidden springs we may not know. + Nor is it given us to discern + What threads the fatal sisters spun, + Through what ancestral years has run + The sorrow with the woman born, + What forged her cruel chain of moods, + What set her feet in solitudes, + And held the love within her mute, + What mingled madness in the blood, + A life-long discord and annoy, + Water of tears with oil of joy, + And hid within the folded bud + Perversities of flower and fruit. + It is not ours to separate + The tangled skein of will and fate, + To show what metes and bounds should stand + Upon the soul's debatable land, + And between choice and Providence + Divide the circle of events; + But He who knows our frame is just, + Merciful, and compassionate, + And full of sweet assurances + And hope for all the language is, + That He remembereth we are dust! + + At last the great logs, crumbling low, + Sent out a dull and duller glow, + [Illustration] + The bull's-eye watch that hung in view, + Ticking its weary circuit through, + Pointed with mutely-warning sign + Its black hand to the hour of nine. + That sign the pleasant circle broke: + My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke, + Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray, + And laid it tenderly away, + Then roused himself to safely cover + The dull red brands with ashes over. + And while, with care, our mother laid + The work aside, her steps she stayed + One moment, seeking to express + Her grateful sense of happiness + For food and shelter, warmth and health, + And love's contentment more than wealth, + With simple wishes (not the weak, + Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek, + But such as warm the generous heart, + O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) + That none might lack, that bitter night, + For bread and clothing, warmth and light. + + Within our beds awhile we heard + The wind that round the gables roared, + With now and then a ruder shock, + Which made our very bedsteads rock. + We heard the loosened clapboards tost, + The board-nails snapping in the frost; + And on us, through the unplastered wall, + Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall. + But sleep stole on, as sleep will do + When hearts are light and life is new; + Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, + Till in the summer-land of dreams + They softened to the sound of streams, + Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars, + And lapsing waves on quiet shores. + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + + Next morn we wakened with the shout + Of merry voices high and clear; + And saw the teamsters drawing near + To break the drifted highways out. + Down the long hillside treading slow + We saw the half-buried oxen go, + Shaking the snow from heads uptost, + Their straining nostrils white with frost. + Before our door the straggling train + Drew up, an added team to gain. + The elders threshed their hands a-cold, + Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes + From lip to lip; the younger folks + Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled, + Then toiled again the cavalcade + O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine, + And woodland paths that wound between + Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed. + [Illustration] + From every barn a team afoot, + At every house a new recruit, + Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law, + Haply the watchful young men saw + [Illustration] + Sweet doorway pictures of the curls + And curious eyes of merry girls, + Lifting their hands in mock defence + Against the snow-ball's compliments, + And reading in each missive tost + The charm with Eden never lost. + + We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; + And, following where the teamsters led, + The wise old Doctor went his round, + [Illustration] + Just pausing at our door to say, + In the brief autocratic way + Of one who, prompt at Duty's call, + Was free to urge her claim on all, + That some poor neighbor sick abed + At night our mother's aid would need. + For, one in generous thought and deed, + What mattered in the sufferer's sight + The Quaker matron's inward light, + The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? + All hearts confess the saints elect + Who, twain in faith, in love agree, + And melt not in an acid sect + The Christian pearl of charity! + + So days went on: a week had passed + Since the great world was heard from last. + The Almanac we studied o'er, + Read and reread our little store, + Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score; + One harmless novel, mostly hid + From younger eyes, a book forbid, + And poetry, (or good or bad, + A single book was all we had,) + Where Ellwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, + A stranger to the heathen Nine, + Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine, + The wars of David and the Jews. + [Illustration] + At last the floundering carrier bore + The village paper to our door. + Lo! broadening outward as we read, + To warmer zones the horizon spread; + In panoramic length unrolled + We saw the marvels that it told. + Before us passed the painted Creeks, + And daft McGregor on his raids + In Costa Rica's everglades. + [Illustration] + And up Taygetos winding slow + Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks, + A Turk's head at each saddle-bow! + Welcome to us its week-old news, + Its corner for the rustic Muse, + Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, + Its record, mingling in a breath + The wedding knell and dirge of death; + Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale; + The latest culprit sent to jail; + Its hue and cry of stolen and lost, + Its vendue sales and goods at cost, + And traffic calling loud for gain. + We felt the stir of hall and street, + The pulse of life that round us beat; + The chill embargo of the snow + Was melted in the genial glow; + Wide swung again our ice-locked door, + And all the world was ours once more! + + Clasp, Angel of the backward look + And folded wings of ashen gray + And voice of echoes far away, + The brazen covers of thy book; + The weird palimpsest old and vast, + Wherein thou hid'st the spectral past; + Where, closely mingling, pale and glow + The characters of joy and woe; + The monographs of outlived years, + Or smile-illumed or dim with tears, + Green hills of life that slope to death, + And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees + Shade off to mournful cypresses + With the white amaranths underneath. + Even while I look, I can but heed + The restless sands' incessant fall, + Importunate hours that hours succeed, + Each clamorous with its own sharp need, + And duty keeping pace with all. + Shut down and clasp the heavy lids; + I hear again the voice that bids + The dreamer leave his dream midway + For larger hopes and graver fears: + Life greatens in these later years, + The century's aloe flowers to-day! + + Yet, haply, in some lull of life, + Some Truce of God which breaks its strife, + The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, + Dreaming in throngful city ways + Of winter joys his boyhood knew; + And dear and early friends--the few + Who yet remain--shall pause to view + These Flemish pictures of old days; + Sit with me by the homestead hearth, + And stretch the hands of memory forth + To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze! + And thanks untraced to lips unknown + Shall greet me like the odors blown + From unseen meadows newly mown, + Or lilies floating in some pond, + Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond; + The traveller owns the grateful sense + Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, + And, pausing, takes with forehead bare + The benediction of the air. + + [Illustration] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Snow-Bound, by John Greenleaf Whittier + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOW-BOUND *** + +***** This file should be named 20226.txt or 20226.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/2/2/20226/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Newman, Chuck Greif and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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