The SnowClouds hush the wood with dreary shadow in the night,their cover making secret the star and moon light;with darkness there comes a terrible freezethat cracks the tree branches with a bowing breeze.It silences the cry in the whippoorwill's breastand frightens the chickadee away in his nest.Over field spread patchwork and pines rising tall,one snowflake shivers while it spirals and fallsto settle with its fellows on needle and coneor pile, pale on pale, against bare mountain stone.Many soon follow, blanket hills with their cold;fill river valleys, hide the ruins of old.Animals pause, raise their heads where they kept;gentle folk with bundles slow in their stepsto glance at the tufts in their marvelous descentfrom clouds that are thinning and passing, now spent.The world is a-glimmer, a true shimmering sightand the trees, like layered cakes, are coated in white.----- ----- -----
By the YardCora carries crinkled fabricfrom river to the rue Fabourg,it with lurid fleurs de lis,and it in many fold.There she stands and sells it coldin throngs among the gilted gold,there she hunches in the rainuntil its measure's sold.Here it is, the calico; and hereit is, the silk. Here is woventapestry in silver and in soot.Cora carts it cradled in the street.Scores of many passers-byslip in and out of sight; theysoon espy the dreamy plyof fabrics in her keep.Cora turns her face aside,hands out-held for greedy eyes;Many must she sell a daybefore she's home to sleep.
InventionsYou, who grew fatigued with wordsmade droll by use, fashioned your own.And it was magnificent! Theyshimmered off the page and delightedthe tongue; sometimes like the tingleof bells, now like the chatter ofsparrows in a twilit tree.----- ----- -----
What is FoundThat day she ceased to speak,I tore at her chest, ripped open herbreast and it was not ribs, butthe coils of tree root inside.And her heart, a single wine-coloredleaf with serrated edges.--- --- --- --- ---