Earth had not looked more changed to me.
“Where is the cold? Yon clouded skies
Have only dropped their curtains low
To shade the old mother when she lies,
Sleeping a little, ’neath the snow.
“The cold is not in crag, nor scar,
Not in the snows that lap the lea,
Not in yon wings that beat afar,
Delighting, on the crested sea;
“No, nor in yon exultant wind