The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone; The boy goes hasty for his load of brakes, Then thinks upon the fire and hurries back; The gipsy knocks his hands and tucks them up, And seeks his squalid camp, half hid in snow, Beneath the oak which breaks away the wind, And bushes close in snow like hovel warm; There tainted mutton wastes upon the coals, And the half-wasted dog squats close and rubs, Then feels the heat too strong and goes aloof; He watches well, but none a bit can spare, And vainly waits the morsel thrown away. 'Tis thus they live—a picture to the place, A quiet, pilfering, unprotected race. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLIZZARD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 40 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S FASTING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW OUR BIRTH-CORD by KOFI ANYIDOHO PSALM 147 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND LEARNING TO PLAY THE FLUTE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |