I walked, one winter day, Along a quiet country way. The snow was like a cloak laid down For fairy folk to walk upon, A mantle glistening with gems, And all the trees wore diadems. The light snow crunched beneath my feet In measured music, sharp and sweet. The air was white, a quiver filled With tiny darts of sleet distilled. There is a Viking-joy none knows More vividly than one who goes Into the frozen tang of day Along a quiet country way. The silence was so vast no man Could tell its end, where it began. Suddenly, I was aware Of a delightful comrade there. A chickadee had lighted on A patch of ice spread in the sun, And from his muffled throat broke mirth That filled the sky, the listening earth. He ran and slid and like a boy He screamed and laughed in new-found joy. He reached the rim -- within a trice Was back upon his lake of ice. He had no fear of me at all; Not one companion heard his call. I watched him, half an hour or more, Skate gaily thus from shore to shore, Before I left him, sliding still, His laughter rippling down the hill. I know serene Saint Francis would Have loved him, too, if he had stood As I, against the fence, that day Of winter sun and bird at play. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SACRIFICE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE SANDPIPER by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER CASTLES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE CRUSADERS' MARCH by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN NETTED STRAWBERRIES by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SORDELLO: BOOK 2 by ROBERT BROWNING |