Though hoarfrost rimes the barnyard This sub-zero day, And drifts lie humped as fleece on An unsheared Rambouillet, He lingers till midmorning, Dawdling over chores, Loath to leave the tingling, Glittering, white outdoors; The while he works, a warm tide, Inciting as a toddy, Paints his cheeks with apple-red; Courses through his body. When he turns the stallion out, He wishes he might run, Nicking stars from clods of ice, Neighing at the sun. A bantam cock crows rustily: He mimics it with joy, Then guffaws, discovering How much of man is boy. At last in sheer exuberance -- His wife's face at the pane, Mouthing wonder -- throws a snowball, And hits the weather vane. |