Winter

Blue-green firs waver in a water wan,
Save where red bole, fir-robe unmoved and dim,
Show the keen wizard Frost prevails upon
Even rivers ; a low clink bewrays a slim
Bird, who hath lighted on the marge to drink.
Aerial webs invisible, that link
Sere, russet fern with glume of yellow grass.
And green fir-needle, are palpable star-chains
Of fairy jewel ; from furze-point they pass ;
Every thin, green lance of broom sustains
Like burden ; all are fledged with crystal soft.
Mist frozen in plumelets ; many a taper tuft
Adorns the wine-stained bramble, and the blade,
Or bronzy twigs of trees bereft of shade.

Heath white with frost, and orange reeds are fair,
Beneath yon sombre masses of cold firs.
Wave-mirrored, while a silver birch's hair
Hangs, like dark smoke, athwart the leaden air.
Winter upon small marish pools confers.
As on our panes, with palms and wreaths of hers,
A delicate starflower beauty, rivalling
All fragile water-petals of sweet spring :
Adorns wine-dark, ferruginous fens and ling,
Desolate lowlands where the bittern booms.
And now at nightfall, from where forest looms,
A dragon train wails 'thwart the solitude
Flame-breathing, with a long self-luminous brood.
And livid, long low steam among grey glooms.

Snow falls, hath fallen, all the land is white.
Pure snow clings frozen to labyrinths of trees :
They, in the narrow lane, aloft unite ;
Winter hath clothed with a pure foliage these,
Pitying them, bereft of spring's delight.
How fairylike their veiled pale silences !
Feathery phantoms a grey mist informing
With beauty, as frail corallines dim sea.
Some alien planet our earth seems to be !
Earth lies fair in her shroud and slumbereth ;
So fair the pure white silence of dim death !
Lo ! the sun's fleeting phantom faintly warming
Mists into heaven-blue, while they flush and flee:
Budding birch-sprays hang laughing jewelry
Of opal ice athwart the lift that clears ;
Clinking it falls, or melts in jubilant tears.

IV
Gaily snow flounceth earthward in the sun,
Or frozen glistereth with icy edge
To windward of the elm-bole ; birds in dun
Plumage, fair-formed elves, whistle in the hedge.
Scatter its ermine mantle ; as they run,
Dint earth's bhthe stainless carpet; shake the foam
Splashed upon all green brambles, and redfruited
Hollies, or thorns, or briars, where they roam ;
Our ever sweet-songed robin richly suited.
And birds reserving for a leafier home,
And lovelier lands the voice wherein love luted,
Erewhile in yon dead summer : shadows blue
Nestle where beast, or man hath trodden deep
In crisp, starred snow ; fur mantles fair endue
Thatched roof, wain, barn and byre, while they creep
To a fringe of diamond icicle ; the waters are asleep.
Now skaters whirr and whirl, as erst, upon the imprisoned grey
Plain of the river ; rosy children sliding, shout and play :
Pile the illumining logs within, and let them crackle gay !
Bright holly and green mistletoe cheering our hearths we keep :
Warm glint the polished chairs and glasses, while yule-fires glow deep.
But when dear babes lie dreaming, with a halo near the moon,
And at their nursery doors are left small fairy-appealing shoon,
There will float a voice of mystic bells over earth's pale swound,
And sweet sad fays of memory to haunt us in their sound !

1874.