I walked, one winter day, Along a quiet country way. The snow was like a cloak laid down For fairy folk to walk upon, A mantle glistening with gems, And all the trees wore diadems. The light snow crunched beneath my feet In measured music, sharp and sweet. The air was white, a quiver filled With tiny darts of sleet distilled. There is a Viking-joy none knows More vividly than one who goes Into the frozen tang of day Along a quiet country way. The silence was so vast no man Could tell its end, where it began. Suddenly, I was aware Of a delightful comrade there. A chickadee had lighted on A patch of ice spread in the sun, And from his muffled throat broke mirth That filled the sky, the listening earth. He ran and slid and like a boy He screamed and laughed in new-found joy. He reached the rim -- within a trice Was back upon his lake of ice. He had no fear of me at all; Not one companion heard his call. I watched him, half an hour or more, Skate gaily thus from shore to shore, Before I left him, sliding still, His laughter rippling down the hill. I know serene Saint Francis would Have loved him, too, if he had stood As I, against the fence, that day Of winter sun and bird at play. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUMMER by HAYDEN CARRUTH I LOOKED FOR LIFE AND DID A SHADOW SEE by JAMES GALVIN THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK (SPOKEN BY A CITIZEN OF MALTA - 1300) by EMMA LAZARUS EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL TO A PRIZE BIRD by MARIANNE MOORE |