THE SNOW-STORM.
THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
Down, down the snow is falling slow,
Powd’ring the bald-pate trees:
Its myriad flakes
A blanket makes,
And wrap the sleeping leaves.
Fierce now the blast!
The snow flies fast,
And whirls in many a spray—
Wreath chases wreath,
O’er hill and heath,
Like spirits in their play.
Jack Frost is out,
And drives about—
The white drift for his sled—
Loud roars the gale—
The child turns pale,
And hugs his trundle-bed!
The storm is past,
Gone, gone the blast!
The moon shines fair and bright—
Come, girl and boy,
With shout of joy—
We’ll have a slide to-night!
Apology.—We owe an apology to the Rev. A. B. Muzzy for the insertion of several articles in our Museum, on the important subject of habit. We copied them from an English magazine, giving credit for them to that source. We are now informed that they are from an excellent work, entitled “The Moral Teacher,” by the aforesaid gentleman.
MERRY’S MUSEUM.
VOLUME III.—No. 3.
