Littell's Living Age/Volume 136/Issue 1763/Before the Snow

by Andrew Lang

BEFORE THE SNOW.

AFTER ALBERT GLATIGNY.

Winter is on us, but not yet the snow;
⁠The hills are etched on the horizon, bare,
⁠The skies are iron grey, a bitter air,
With meagre clouds that shudder as they go;
One yellow leaf the listless wind doth blow
⁠Like some new butterfly, unclassed and rare;
⁠Your footsteps ring in frozen alleys, where
The black trees seem to shiver as you go.

Beyond lie church and steeple, and their old
⁠And rusty vanes that rattle as they veer —
A sharper gust would shock them from their hold.
⁠Yet up that path, in Maytime of the year,
And past that dreary ruined tower we strolled
⁠To pluck wild strawberries with summer cheer!

⁠Macmillan's Magazine.A. Lang.