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Show u A SCENE IN WINTER. The north wind howls o'er the dreary plain, The snow lies white and deep AlL is weird and dark and gloomy, Where yon village lies asleep. I List! What strange, half-human cry. Is borne through the chill air Tis the midnight prowler calling. His mates from their hidden lair. The black wolf roams o'er the silent hills, When winds blow cold and chill, When night's dark curtain is drawn around, And the drifting snow the hollows fill. With slow and stealthy tread, he creeps Toward the wakeful watch dog by the gate, Then pauses, and with distended nostrils, nos-trils, Calls once more for his lagging mate. And then a timid, answering call, With the echoes seems to vie, And a second wolf's dark silhouette, Appears against the sky. Together, these two shadowy forms Creep toward the barnyard gate, Then pause and watch and listen Then onward for their prey to lie in wait. But alas! too well the faithful watch dog knows The dismal howl and stealthy tread, And turning, they skulk across' the plain, Filled with a sudden, nameless dread. Across the dreary, waste of snow, they take Their aimless, cowardly flight. Swiftly, silently they go, Subtle, shadow phantoms of the night. Nora Cecelia Callicotte. |