[27] What is the subtle fascination that lurks in such bits of winter poetry as the following, collected by the writer out of his reading?
"Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly."—Gray.
"All winter drives along the darkened air."—Thomson.
"High-ridged the whirled drift has almost reached
The powdered keystone of the churchyard porch;
Mute hangs the hooded bell; the tombs lie buried."—Grahame.
"Alas! alas! thou snow-smitten wood of
Troy, and mountains of Ida."—Sophocles.
"O hard, dull bitterness of cold."—Whittier.
"And in the narrow house o' death
Let winter round me rave."—Burns.
"The mesmerizer, Snow,
With his hand's first sweep
Put the earth to sleep."—Robert Browning.
"And the cakèd snow is shuffled
From the plough-boy's heavy shoon."—Keats.
[28] "There is a story," says Dr. George E. Ellis, "that Burroughs got access to the king out of doors, while his Majesty was playing tennis. As Burroughs kept on his hat while accosting the king, the latter gracefully removed his plumed cap and bowed. The Quaker, put to the blush, said, 'Thee need'st not remove thy hat.' 'Oh,' replied the king, 'it is of no consequence, only that when the king and another gentleman are talking together it is usual for one of them to take off his hat.'"