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david cort - the poem "the snowstorm" كلمات أغنية

announced by all the trumpets of the sky
arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields
seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven
and veils the farm_house at the garden’s end
the sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet
delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
in a tumultuous privacy of storm

come see the north wind’s masonry
out of an unseen quarry evermore
furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
curves his white bastions with projected roof
round every windward stake, or tree, or door
speeding, the myriad_handed, his wild work
so fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
for number or proportion. mockingly
on coop or kennel he hangs parian wreaths;
a swan_like form invests the hidden th_rn;
fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall
maugre the farmer’s sighs; and, at the gate
a tapering turret overtops the work
and when his hours are numbered, and the world
is all his own, retiring, as he were not
leaves, when the sun appears, astonished art
to mimic in slow structures, stone by stone
built in an age, the mad wind’s night_work
the frolic architecture of the snow

- david cort

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