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WOODS IN WINTER.
WHEN winter winds are piercing chill,
With solemn feet I tread the hill,
That overbrows the lonely vale.
O'er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach of desert woods The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes.
Where, twisted round the barren oak,
Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river's gradual tide, Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.
Alas! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay, And winds were soft, and woods were green And the song ceased not with the day.
But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
I hear it in the opening year,—
HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM
AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER.
WHEN the dying flame of day
The blood-red banner, that with prayer
Had been consecrated there.
And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while
Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.