That hang, like a pall, over Nature’s fair face,
But serve to enhance each gleam of gold sunshine,
When new-waking Nature its beauties retrace.
[THE SONG OF THE SLUSH.]
The slush, the slush, the terrible slush,
That streams from each pore of the earth with a gush;
Impeding the travel, making walking a woe;
All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.”