Light he steps across the snow.
Cares he not for winds that blow,
Though the sifting snow be drifting
Through the air.
—Dora R. Goodale.
ON HEARING A WINTER WREN SING IN WINTER
When wintry winds through woodlands blow
And naked tree-tops shake and shiver;
While all the paths were bound in snow,
And thick ice chains the merry river,