The laggard sun, on frosty morn 

 Throws level beams through stubble corn. 

 Against the sunset, naked trees 

 Weave magic bredes and traceries. 

 From woodman's axe white splinters bound ; 

 The flicker's cheery tappings sound ; 

 Ice thaws, and in the quickening flood 

 Are vague, fond hopes of leaf and bud ; 

 When lo ! like fleck of living sky, 

 Full-songed, a blue bird sweet flits by ! 



