Songs of darkness, light, and death . Far in the wildwood reechoes the sound—The report of the rifle and the yelp of the hound. I fill every cellar, no famine the lowliest cottag-e a brig-ht fire for winter with many concerns,And the bird on wing- for a season adjourns. My winds bring- the harvest, no moments to spare. Now and then a flake is seen on the air. When harvest is oer Ill banish your care, You may sit by the fireside and partake of your share. Ah! I have returned to conquer, at last. And send forth the snow with the cold, sting-ing blast. The flowing- stre
Songs of darkness, light, and death . Far in the wildwood reechoes the sound—The report of the rifle and the yelp of the hound. I fill every cellar, no famine the lowliest cottag-e a brig-ht fire for winter with many concerns,And the bird on wing- for a season adjourns. My winds bring- the harvest, no moments to spare. Now and then a flake is seen on the air. When harvest is oer Ill banish your care, You may sit by the fireside and partake of your share. Ah! I have returned to conquer, at last. And send forth the snow with the cold, sting-ing blast. The flowing- streams again Ill hold fast. Spring- and summer are seasons of the past. 158 SONGS OF DARKNESS, Remain in your cots while I sweep oer the land,And out of doors dont venture to stand,I soar like the condor, outstretch my cold hand,Summer is gone and Im in command. Im dreaded by all, yea, loved by none. The young- and the old, me. Winter, they shun, I care not for friends for alone I begun, Ill blockade their paths, but soon Ill be LIGHT AND DKATH. 159 A WONDERFUL SCULPTOR. Theres an old slate rock in the Wichita mountainsWonderfully chiseled, I found it at morn, The head of Black Fish, the ancient war inlaid with g-old by his war club, so worn. As were it burnished with blood-stones, the eyes madeof diamonds. It blinded my optics when lit by the sun,I crept round the rock in search of a foot print Till my joints grew weary in finding- not one. I turned me towards home to tell my loved peeled off the bark from a sprig- that g-rewnear. But, far beyond, I saw a small foot path, Twas trodden, methinks, for many a year. I followed the path oer rocks and g-reat ledg-es. Wondering- each moment what the next might bring. Was still told to follow by the sand on the fell from a shoe when an echo would ring. I paused, I heard a cry at a distance, So different than when the angels came low, I fell in a crevice and, nestling closer, For it seemed t
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublisherlansi, bookyear1895
