Cold Journey

The old draught horse with weary hooves will slog through wet snow pulling hard and breathing fog and he glides still near farms and fields where we dream warm of home and fireside's reverie The motion lulls--my anxious thoughts depart. We wander, but we know the way by heart For I was caught by night, but moonlight shines o'er hoarfrost-painted flowers on the pines It's nearly silent, daylight's din is gone save padding fox feet, snow break, night bird’s song Far down the path I know where you will wait with arms outstretched to draw me through the gate