J. E. HOAG.
The snow, the snow, lies deep and still,
In darkened vale, on wooded hill;
The purling brook has ceased to sing,
Till wakeful bird proclaims 't is spring.
O'er mountain heights the sweeping gale
Spreads fleecy flakes o'er hill and dale,
Nor cease their flight through murky day,
Though, drifting high, impede the way.
Beneath a robe of pearly white
The rising moon peers o'er the height;
Then climbing high o'er earth below
Serenely rides o'er fleecy snow.
The sleeping rose, enrobed in white,
Awakes the springtime coming light;The tender birds asleep in morn
Till gorgeous flowers the fields adorn.
The peeping blades of verdant grass,
The creeping things of life at last,
The hum of bees from flow'r to flow'r,
All Nature hails the April shower.
We hail the breezy breath of May,
The apple bloom at close of day;
We seek the shade at sultry noon,
At eve we greet the crescent moon.
Now let all Nature-life awake;
Let hungry souls of Life partake;
"Praise Him from whom all blessings flow"
To grateful mortals here below.
Greenwich, N. Y.
Troy Times. March 25, 1920: 6 col 3.