That the grass is all hid ’long the side of the road
Wher’ the deep snow has drifted and shifted and blowed—
And I feel in my life the same changes is there,—
The frost in my heart, and the snow in my hair.
But, Muskingum Valley! my memory sees
Not the white on the ground, but the green in the trees—
Not the froze’-over gorge, but the current, as clear
And warm as the drop that has jes trickled here;
Not the choked-up ravine, and the hills topped with snow,
But the grass and the blossoms I knowed long ago