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.