Ridged o’er with many a drifty heap;
The wind that through the pine trees sung
The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung;
While through the window, frosty-starred,
Against the sunset purple barr’d,
We saw the somber crow flit by,
The hawks gray flock along the sky,
The crested blue-jay flitting swift,
The squirrel poising on the drift,
Erect, alert, his broad gray tail,