OREGON SNOW
It fell and laid one blanket more
Upon the store
We had.
And I am glad,
For here—up here, it’s not a crime
To love the snow in winter-time.
Upon the store
We had.
And I am glad,
For here—up here, it’s not a crime
To love the snow in winter-time.
It’s hip-deep in the clover-field
Behind the barn—the woods there shield
The sun. I took a jog
On show-shoes with the dog
Across the ditch that marks the clover’s edge
Into a straggling hedge
Of saplings—only yesterday they were
So cocky and so straight—each baby-fir
A prickly little grenadier; and now—
How vanquished! Every bough
Limp, beaten, crushed, as if
The snow had said—“Oh stiff
And upright little tree
How much of me
Do you suppose your arms will hold?”
To which the tree made answer bold—
“I am a young and husky fir—
All you can give, I’ll hold, Good Sir!”
A rather glib and short
Retort,
Behind the barn—the woods there shield
The sun. I took a jog
On show-shoes with the dog
Across the ditch that marks the clover’s edge
Into a straggling hedge
Of saplings—only yesterday they were
So cocky and so straight—each baby-fir
A prickly little grenadier; and now—
How vanquished! Every bough
Limp, beaten, crushed, as if
The snow had said—“Oh stiff
And upright little tree
How much of me
Do you suppose your arms will hold?”
To which the tree made answer bold—
“I am a young and husky fir—
All you can give, I’ll hold, Good Sir!”
A rather glib and short
Retort,
[19]
