Deep snow! Soracte stands solid under it. How white the woods are! Scarcely supportable That load is on their backs: behold them! And not a brook but is icy-crusted. Thaw out the frost, and freely put on the logs, Piling the hearth up; nay, for a kindliness, Fetch down the four winters' maturing, My Thaliarch—the Sabine elixir. All else to heav'n leave: heav'n has allayed the rage Of stormy tempests fighting a sea battle And tranquillized our lately windtossed Cypresses and veterans of ash trees. As for the future, seek not a hint of it, But use the day's gift; draw form it interest, Not spurning, O young men, the instincts Of the susceptible, and the ball room, While yet the green sap keeps the head ungrizzled Unsoured. The park side and promenade be it, And softly at nightfall the whispered Intimacies of a tryst's appointment, Where from the corner gleefully half-hidden Love hears the laugh that tells a betrayed presence, Exacting off snatched arm a token Or from a finger an easy forfeit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GREAT RACE PASSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 11. HAMBURG by SARA TEASDALE THE LITANY: 10. THE MARTYRS by JOHN DONNE IN THE SHADOWS: 19 by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) TWO LIVES: CONCLUSION. INDIAN SUMMER by WILLIAM ELLERY LEONARD AN ELECTIVE COURSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HARVARD DECLARES WAR by BRENT DOW ALLINSON |