THE wind blows high, the wind blows low. The buried prairies in the snow Lie warm and deep. Safe under Winter's soft white wing A little seedling dreams of spring, Stirs in its sleep. The wind has gone, and softly come Small furry friends from drifted home, Hungry — a-fright — The marks of tiny footsteps show, Like frozen music-notes, on snow All silent, white. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POOR-HOUSE by SARA TEASDALE HYMN OF THE CITY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO GOD AND IRELAND TRUE by ELLEN O'LEARY STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER SUDDEN LIGHT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |