THE wind blows high, the wind blows low. The buried prairies in the snow Lie warm and deep. Safe under Winter's soft white wing A little seedling dreams of spring, Stirs in its sleep. The wind has gone, and softly come Small furry friends from drifted home, Hungry — a-fright — The marks of tiny footsteps show, Like frozen music-notes, on snow All silent, white. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FLORIDA GHOST by SIDNEY LANIER THE BEACON; A MUSICAL DRAMA by JOANNA BAILLIE REPRESSION OF WAR EXPERIENCE by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE MAID OF NEIDPATH by WALTER SCOTT THE PIKER'S RUBAIYAT by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |