AN ICE-STORM 



shapes of tree growth. Wood roads are 

 barricaded with low arches of ice that 

 the hare and the fox can barely find 

 passage beneath, and with long, curved 

 slants of great limbs bent to the earth. 

 The wild vines are turned to ropes and 

 cables of ice, and have dragged down 

 their strong supports, about whose pros- 

 trate trunks and limbs they writhe in a 

 tangle of rigid coils. The lithe trunks 

 of second growth are looped in an intri- 

 cate confusion of arches one upon an- 

 other, many upon one, over whole acres 

 of low-roofed forest floor. 



The hare and the grouse cower in these 

 tents of ice, frightened and hungry ; for 

 every sprout and bud is sheathed in 

 adamant, and scarlet berries, magnified 

 and unattainable, glow in the heart of 

 crystal globules. Even the brave chick- 

 adees are appalled, and the disheartened 

 woodpecker mopes beside the dead trunk, 

 behind whose impenetrable shield he can 

 hear the grub boring in safety. 



Through the frozen brambles that lat- 

 tice the doorway of his burrow the fox 

 peers dismayed upon a glassy surface 

 that will hold no scent of quarry, yet 

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