Or maybe snowshoes sounded up the draw.
Quick, tell me what you saw and heard out there!”
“Heaped snow—sharp stars—big stillness everywhere.”
One clutching at thin ice with numbing grip
Cries while he hopes; but when his fingers slip,
He takes the final plunge without a sound.
So sinks the youth now, hopeless. All around
The winter silence presses in; the walls
Grow vague and vanish in the gloom that crawls
Close to the failing fire.