DECEMBER DAYS 



The marshes are silent and make no 

 sign of life, though beneath the domes 

 of many a sedge-built roof the unseen 

 muskrats are astir, and under the icy 

 cover of the channels fare to and fro on 

 their affairs of life, undisturbed by any 

 turmoil of the upper world. 



When the winds are asleep the lake 

 bears on its placid breast the moveless 

 images of its quiet shores, deserted now 

 by the latest pleasure seekers among 

 whose tenantless camps the wild wood- 

 folk wander as fearlessly as if the foot of 

 man had never trodden here. From the 

 still midwaters far away a loon halloos 

 to the winds to come forth from their 

 caves, and yells out his mad laughter 

 in anticipation of the coming storm. A 

 herald breeze blackens the water with 

 its advancing steps, and with a roar of 

 its trumpets the angry wind sweeps 

 down, driving the white-crested ranks of 

 waves to assault the shores. Far up the 

 long incline of pebbly beaches they rush, 

 and leaping up the walls of rock hang 

 fetters of ice upon the writhing trees. 

 Out of the seething waters arise lofty 

 columns of vapor, which like a host of 



