A SONG OF THE WINTER WOODS 



75 



hard bare earth, or the endless stretch of snow? 

 I have just returned from such a winter walk 

 of mile after mile through snow-laden woods, 

 across snow-covered meadows, over snow-hung 



Upland and lowland, field and wood-lot 



ledges without seeing anything alive. Nor did I 

 wish to see anything alive. For I was alive, 

 warm, throbbing, abounding with life that faced 

 the biting wind, that laughed at the bitter cold, 

 that reached out toward the snowy miles with 

 hunger for them. 



Alive ? Was I not alive ? Were not the winds, 



