Showered by snowfalls as the branches break,
The forest path grows dim in evening dusk.
And owls reply, deep in the gloom awake,
Like ghostly mourners for earth's icy husk.
White over black, the snow-robed sentinels
Cover the rushing stream, black waters roll,
Resound through dream worlds, woods and fells,
Bewintered as the hush blankets the whole.
Like snow-wrapped boughs bend to the frozen earth
And sip black waters rushing beneath their root,
Frozen and bowed, the wintry soul athirst
Dips into perilous waters burbling at its foot.
What does the forest watch? What the stream see?
Frozen in silent darkness, they see me.