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Poem	I The air is silent save where stirs A bugling breeze among the firs; The virgin world in white array Waits for the bridegroom kiss of day; All heaven blooms rarely in the east Where skies are silvery and fleeced, And o'er the orient hills made glad The morning comes in wonder clad; Oh, 'tis a time most fit to see How beautiful the dawn can be! II Wide, sparkling fields snow-vestured lie Beneath a blue, unshadowed sky; A glistening splendor crowns the woods And bosky, whistling solitudes; In hemlock glen and reedy mere The tang of frost is sharp and clear; Life hath a jollity and zest, A poignancy made manifest; Laughter and courage have their way At noontide of a winter's day. III Faint music rings in wold and dell, The tinkling of a distant bell, Where homestead lights with friendly glow Glimmer across the drifted snow; Beyond a valley dim and far Lit by an occidental star, Tall pines the marge of day beset Like many a slender minaret, Whence priest-like winds on crystal air Summon the reverent world to prayer.
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