Frozen Bogs



In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
The redbreast looks in vain
For hips and haws
Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane
The silver pencil of the winter draws

When all the snowy hill
And the bare woods are still
When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs
And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire
Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs
More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire

While here in sheltered house
With fire-ypainted walls
I hear the wind abroad
I hark the calling squalls
Blow

The stormy evening closes now in vain
Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain
Blow, I cry, you burst your cheeks in vain
Blow, I cry, my love is home again

That here in sheltered house
With fire-ypainted walls
Now hears the wind abroad
Now harks the calling squalls
Blow

Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight
Bore still the precious freight of my delight
Blow, I cry, in vain you rouse the sea
My rescued sailor shares the fire with me

When all the snowy hill
And the bare woods are still
When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs
And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire
Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs
More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire
In the frozen bogs