SONGS UNDER THE ICE.
55
The worldly-wise mother
Looked over at me:
"I know how to manage
Matilda, you see!"
SONGS UNDER THE ICE.
ONCE the shining King of the winter frost
From the North came down, and the valley crossed,
Stealthily creeping; And he laughed with pride as he came to see
How the wildwood rose and the great oak tree
Alike were sleeping.
Over empty nests in the maples hung,
Where the summer birds their songs had sung,
Noisy and jolly;
Over stubble-fields, where the plover's call
Had piped, in tune with the waterfall,
Notes melancholy.
Then the fir tree buttoned its dark-green coat,
With the brown cones, close to its dusky throat,
Grim and dreary;
While the sober pine, as the sunshine paled,
To the patient side of the mountain wailed
Its Miserere.
