The Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleighbells in a ghost of snow.
The Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleighbells in a ghost of snow.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell he so,
And they are better for her praise.
The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
A plow, they say, to plow the snow.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories