110 



WINTER 





The sight was strange, as if this were another 

 planet and not our orderly, peaceful world at all. 

 Nor, indeed, was it ; for fear cowered everywhere, in 

 all the things that were of the earth, as over the 

 earth and everything upon it raged the fury of river 

 and sky. 



The frail mud bank trembled under the beating 

 of the waves; the sunken sluices strangled and shook 

 deep down through the whirlpools sucking at their 

 mouths; the flocks of scattered sea-birds ducks 

 and brant veered into sight, dashed down toward 

 the white waters or drove over with mad speed, 

 while the winds screamed and the sky hung black 

 like a torn and flapping sail. 



And I, too, would have to drop upon all fours, 

 with the mice and muskrats, and cling to the bank 

 for my life, as the snarling river, leaping at me, 

 would plunge clear over into the meadow below. 



A winter blizzard is more deadly, but not more 

 fearful, nor so wild and tumultuous. For in such a 

 storm as this the foundations of the deep seem to be 

 broken up, the frame of the world shaken, and you, 

 and the mice, and the muskrats, share alike the wild, 

 fierce spirit and the fear. 



To be out in such a storm, out where you can feel 

 its full fury, as upon a strip of bank in the midst ^ 

 of the churning waters, is good for one. To experi- 

 ence a common peril with your fellow mortals, though 

 they be only mice and muskrats, is good for one; 



I 



