Spilyay tymoo., February 06, 1981, Page 6, Image 6

Page 6 February 6,1981
Spilyay Tymoo
Spilyay Tymoo
Winter snows frost the
February 6,1981 Page 7
countryside
Woods in Winter
FFAezi winter winds are piercing chill,
A n d through the hawthorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill,
That overbrows the lonely vale.
O'er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach o f desert woods,
The embracing sunbeams chastely play,
A n d gladden these deep solitudes.
Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
A n d summer winds the stillness broke,
The crystal icicle is hung.
Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river's gradual tide,
Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
A n d voices fill the woodland side.
Alas! how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out their mellow lay,
A n d winds were soft, and woods were green.
A n d the song ceased not with the day!
But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd;
A n d gathering winds, in hoarse accord,
A m id the vocal reeds pipe loud.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.
Longfellow
Snow-flakes
o f the bosom o f the Air,
Out o f the cloud-folds o f her garment^ shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem o f the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret o f despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
N ow whispered and revealed
To w ood and field.
Longfellow
Photos by Marsha She' czyk
Velvet Shoes
L et us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
A t a tranquil pace,
Under veils o f white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
A n d you in wool,
White as a white cow's milk,
M ore beautiful
Than the breast o f a gull.
We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fa ll like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.
.. Elinor W ylie