I.
OVER the valley the storm-clouds blow,
Dark and low;
The wild air whitens with flying snow.
Through the timber two lovers ride,
Side by side,
Wrapped in a shaggy buffalo-hide.
The winter has paved for their sleigh a track
Over the back
Of the river rolling deep and black.
Encircled by trees which the axe has spared,
In a bared
White space by the bank is their home prepared.
There Love in the wilderness far aloof
Wove the roof:
Boughs and bark are the warp and woof.
A small rude hut amid stumps and knolls,-
Cabin of poles,
With sticks and clay for the chinks and holes.
To that lonely door his bride he brings:
Back it swings:
The fire is kindled, the kettle sings.
Though wooden platter and pewter plate
Indicate
Lowly station and small estate;
And happy they if their little hoard
Will afford
Daily bread for that rough-hewn board;
Though the snow, whirled round their cabin, sifts
Through the rifts,
And up to the window climb the drifts,-
Let the forest roar and the tempest blow!
Drive the snow!
In the heart of the hut is a heavenly glow.
Love that is mighty and Hope that is great,
Consecrate
Wooden platter and pewter plate.
Not to mansions where abide
Wealth and pride,
Comes ever a happier Christmas-tide.
In the privacy of their safe retreat
It is sweet
To hear the rush of the whirlwind’s feet;
To hear the tempest’s whistling lash
Smite the sash,
And the mighty hemlocks howl and clash.
II.
Far from the city, its life and din,
Friends and kin,
Is the fresh new world which they begin.
In and about with busy feet,
Light and fleet,
She keeps his cabin cozy and neat.
With shouldered axe I see him go
Through the snow,
To clear the land for harrow and hoe.
Over his roof-tree curls the smoke,
While the stroke
Of his axe resounds on ash and oak.
From the log at his feet, to left and right,
Fly the bright
Splintered chips in the wintry light.
When the warm days come in early spring,
She will bring
Her work to the woods and sew and sing.
‘T is pleasant to feel her watching near,
Joy to hear
Her voice in the woodland, high and clear!
Together they talk in new-fallen tree,
And foresee
The work of their hands in the days to be.
Where the beech comes crashing down, and the lithe
Branches writhe,
He will turn the furrow and swing the scythe.
A rose by the doorway she will set,
Nor forget
Pansies and pinks and mignonette.
He will burn the clearing and plant the corn;
She will adorn
Their house for him and their babe unborn.
III.
Swiftly ever, without a sound,
Earth goes round,
Air and ocean and solid ground.
Swiftly for them as for you and me,
Till they see
What they foresaw in the fallen tree.
Before their door in the summer morn,
Waves the corn.
‘T is Christmas again, and a babe is born.
Not for the glories of wealth and art,
Would they part
With that small treasure of home and heart.
Dear Heaven! what springs of bliss are stirred,
When is heard
Its laugh or its first low lisping word!
A flower let fall by the Infinite
Love has lit
In their path, and brought God’s peace with it.
IV.
The world goes round, and year by year
Still appear
Children that add to the household cheer.
Now a daughter and now a son,
One by one
They are cradled, they creep, they walk, they run.
Sons and daughters, until behold!
Young and old,
A Jacob’s-ladder with steps of gold!
A ladder of little heads! each fair
Head a stair
For the angels that visit the parent pair.
V
Bless
(John Townsend Trowbridge)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, World Poems, Light Poems, Nature Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Youth Poems, Heaven Poems, Friendship Poems, Flowers Poems, Fire Poems, Home PoemsBased on Keywords: s-ladder, buffalo-hide