From out the white and pulsing storm I hear the snow-birds calling; The sheeted winds stalk o'er the hills, And fast the snow is falling. Like children laughing at their play I hear the birds a-twitter, What care they that the skies are dim Or that the cold is bitter? On twinkling wings they eddy past, At home amid the drifting, Or seek the hills and weedy fields Where fast the snow is sifting. Their coats are dappled white and brown Like fields in winter weather, But on the azure sky that float Like snowflakes knit together. I've heard them on the spotless hills Where fox and hound were playing, The while I stood with eager ear Bent on the distant baying. The unmown fields are their preserves, Where weeds and grass are seedling; They know the lure of distant stacks Where houseless herds are feeding. O cherry bird of winter cold, I bless thy every feather; Thy voice brings back dear boyhood days When we were gay together. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CENTRAL PARK AT DUSK by SARA TEASDALE TO A MOSQUITO by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT NAPOLEON by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE OLD IRONSIDES by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES A BABY ASLEEP AFTER PAIN by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BEAUTIFUL MEALS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE |