In the winter children go
Walking in the fields of snow
Where there is no grass at all,
And the top of every wall,
Every fence, and every tree
Is as white as white can be.
Pointing out the way they came,
(Every one of them the same)
All across the fields there be
Prints in silver filigree;
And their mothers find them so
By the footprints in the snow.
THE PAPS OF DANA
The mountains stand and stare around,
They are far too proud to speak;
Altho' they're rooted in the ground,
Up they go, peak after peak,
Beyond the tallest tree, and still
Soaring over house and hill
Until you'd think they'd never stop
Going up, top over top,
Into the clouds—
Still I mark
That a sparrow or a lark
Flying just as high, can sing
As if he'd not done anything.
I think the mountains ought to be
Taught a little modesty.
DONNELLY'S ORCHARD
He who locks a gate doth close
Pity's heart against his woes;
But who opens one shall find
God is standing just behind.