A night of howling wind and incessant snow battering the window makes indoor comfort feel sweeter. When the storm drops, morning reveals mountainous drifts blocking every cottage door until shovels carve paths between sheer walls of snow. The shepherd finds hedges vanished into a white sweep of curving hills, trees half-buried like bushes. With surprise, a boy going to feed animals steps over yesterday’s gate, now level with the snow; all hedges gone, even treetops low enough for sheep to browse. His cautious delight turns bolder as he shuffles through the huge drifts, then plunges chin-deep, struggling out with a laugh. But he stops, suddenly aware of the deep grass and bushes below, where little birds that tucked heads in at dusk now pine for morning, never feeling the footsteps over their heads. The mood blends cozy warmth, childlike wonder, and a quiet tenderness for the vulnerable life hidden beneath the snow.
Snow Storm — Summary
What a night! The wind howls, hisses, and but stops To howl more loud, while the snow volley keeps Incessant batter at the window pane, Making our comfort feel as sweet again; And in the morning, when the tempest drops, At every cottage door mountainous heaps Of snow lie drifted, that all entrance stops Untill the beesom and the shovel gain The path, and leave a wall on either side. The shepherd rambling valleys white and wide With new sensations his old memory fills, When hedges left at night, no more descried, Are turned to one white sweep of curving hills, And trees turned bushes half their bodies hide.
The boy that goes to fodder with surprise Walks oer the gate he opened yesternight. The hedges all have vanished from his eyes; Een some tree tops the sheep could reach to bite. The novel scene emboldens new delight, And, though with cautious steps his sports begin, He bolder shuffles the huge hills of snow, Till down he drops and plunges to the chin, And struggles much and oft escape to win-- Then turns and laughs but dare not further go; For deep the grass and bushes lie below, Where little birds that soon at eve went in With heads tucked in their wings now pine for day And little feel boys oer their heads can stray.