Rose and Roof-Tree — The Ghosts of Growth

THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH.

Last night it snowed; and Nature fell asleep.

Forest and field lie tranced in gracious dreams Of growth, for ghosts of leaves long dead, me-seems, Hover about the boughs; and wild winds sweep O'er whitened fields full many a hoary heap From the storm-harvest mown by ice-bound streams!

With beauty of crushed clouds the cold earth teems, And winter a tranquil-seeming truce would keep.

But such ethereal slumber may not bide The ascending sun's bright scorn--not long, I fear;

And all its visions on the golden tide Of mid-noon gliding off, must disappear.

Fair dreams, farewell!

So in life's stir and pride You fade, and leave the treasure of a tear!