A WINTER MOOD 



" Here might I pause and bend in reverence 

 To Nature and the power of human mind." 



Wordsworth. 



Blow all the day, gray wind, blow 

 all the day ! Sweep the cold sky and 

 polish its jewels, sweep all the earth's 

 corners and release their vapours. 

 Blow all the day, gray wind, and bury 

 the wood-path in brown leaves; pluck 

 even the leaf rags from the tenacious 

 beeches, as the crow rends the last 

 shred from a carcass. 



Whirl in the mottled sands, and - 

 cover the bronze seaweeds, the gold 

 and silver shells, bits of wreckage 

 bright with barnacles, the drift fagots, 

 the tracks of the wader, and the ridged 

 218 



