When I was young my teachers were
I gave up fire for form till I wa
I suffered like a metal being cast
I went to school to age to learn t
Now when I am old my teachers are

Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in th
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily “Hit them har
I knew pretty well why he had drop

He halted in the wind, and - what
Far in the maples, pale, but not a
He stood there bringing March aga
And yet too ready to believe the m
'Oh, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom

When the wind works against us in
And pelts with snow
The lowest chamber window on the e
And whispers with a sort of stifle
The beast,

When the spent sun throws up its r
And goes down burning into the gul
No voice in nature is heard to cry
At what has happened. Birds, at l
It is the change to darkness in th

If, as they say, some dust thrown
Will keep my talk from getting ove
I’m not the one for putting off th
Let it be overwhelming, off a roof
And round a corner, blizzard snow

The surest thing there is is we ar
And though none too successful at
Through everything presented, land
And now the very air, of what we r
What is this talked-of mystery of

All crying, ‘We will go with you,
The foliage follow him, leaf and s
But a sleep oppresses them as they
And they end by bidding them as th
And they end by bidding him stay w

A plow, they say, to plow the snow
They cannot mean to plant it, no—
Unless in bitterness to mock
At having cultivated rock.

I had for my winter evening walk—
No one at all with whom to talk,
But I had the cottages in a row
Up to their shining eyes in snow.
And I thought I had the folk with