Then off they sped away—away, the snow-birds flew afraid,
The frost came in the air to touch the cheeks of man and maid,
The yellow sunbeams raced with them, and made a glow and gleam,
Put rainbow colors on the bridge that spanned the frozen stream.
A white highway they followed down into the valley wide,
And whiter yet the sun-kissed hills that rose on either side;
Black Bess made all her chiming bells flow music clear and sweet
As on she sped, and on, and on—a handsome thing and fleet.
But when the forest wide was reached she took a sober pace,
As though to give them time to note the beauty of the place,
The giant heads were crowned with snow, the giant limbs were dressed,
And close about the giant girths the snowy drifts were pressed.
And Ruth, a fair and radiant Ruth, said softly “This is grand;
Old winter makes his home I trow, in this wide northern land,
You lacked in courtesy to-day, but this ride makes amends,
So Ronald now, a truce, I say; let us be loyal friends.”
“No friend am I,” he said, and laughed to note her look of pride!
“What boors you are, here in the north!” the angry maiden cried;
“And now for home and supper warm, we’ll need them without doubt.”
Homeward they flew, Black Bess as fresh as when she started out;
The sun with all his gorgeous train went down behind the crest
Of one tall hill, but left a glow of crimson in the west,
So soft, so pure, the old world lay as the young night came down,
For covered all her gardens sere, her meadows bare and brown.
He spoke at length, “I will not be your brother or your friend.
But I will be your lover true till life and love shall end,”
The blue eyes looked into the brown, he bent his head full low,
He may have kissed her tender mouth—but this no one can know.
. . . . . . . . . .
“Ho! Ho! this winter air is fine!” the old man cried with glee!
“Did you enjoy my treat? Your cheeks are rosy as can be,”
“I did,” Ruth owned, and stretched her hands out to the cheerful blaze,
“I like Canadian scenery—I—like—Canadian—ways.”
His Own Little Black-Eyed Lad
IT is time for bed, so the nurse declares,
But I slip off to the nook,
The cosy nook at the head of the stairs,
Where daddy’s reading his book.
“I want to sit here awhile on your knee,”
I say as I toast my feet,
“And I want you to pop some corn for me,
And give me an apple sweet.”
I tickle him under the chin—just so—
And I say, “Please can’t I, dad?”
Then I kiss his mouth so he can’t say no,
To his own little black-eyed lad.
“You can’t have a pony this year at all,”
Says my stingy uncle Joe
After promising it, and there’s the stall
Fixed ready for it, you know.
One can’t depend on his uncles, I see,
It’s daddies that are the best,
And I find mine and climb on his knee
As he takes his smoke and rest.
I tickle him under the chin—just so—
And I say, “Please can’t I, dad?”
Then I kiss his mouth so he can’t say no,
To his own little black-eyed lad.