A WINTER MOOD 



" Here might I pause and bend in reverence 

 To Nature and the power of human mind." 

 Wordsworth. 



Blow all the day, gray wind, blow 

 all the day ! Sweep the cold sky and 

 polish its jewels, sweep all the earth's 

 corners and release their vapours. 

 Blow all the day, gray wind, and bury 

 the wood-path in brown leaves; pluck 

 even the leaf rags from the tenacious 

 beeches, as the crow rends the last 

 shred from a carcass. 



Whirl in the mottled sands, and 

 cover the bronze seaweeds, the gold 

 and silver shells, bits of wreckage 

 bright with barnacles, the drift fagots, 

 the tracks of the wader, and the ridged 



