The bladeless field, the birdless thicket muffling,
But now no more the river's stillness ruffling.
Oh, bitter is the sky, and blank its stare—
Back there!
"Back there," the wires are down. The blizzard, meaning
No good to man or beast, shakes loose his hair.
The storm-bound train and locomotive preening
His sable plume, the ferry-boat, careening
Between the ice-cakes, icy fringes wear—
Back there!