Come walk a mile with me--'Tis January;
The knee-deep snow lies heavy on the ground
And hark!--the icy winds--how swift they hurry
Over the fields with melancholy sound;
And save these winds or some forsaken raven,
Winging its way along yon frozen hill,
Nature is hush'd--her dormant image graven
In marble masks on woodland, lake and rill.
And look!--the trees their naked trunks are swaying,
As bitterly each blast goes howling by,
And hark!--the music in the hemlocks playing,
Like some lost spirit banished from the sky,
And see the smoke from yonder chimney curling,
Hugs the broad roofs, deep-burden'd with the snow,
While clouds of snow are round the low eaves whirling.
How cold it is!--Come, let us homeward go
There will we find the cheerful fire still burning,
There ruddy warmth will make our faces glow,
And there kind hearts will welcome our returning;
Come!--let us hasten through the drifty snow.