The Sleet

Regal the earth seems with diamonds today,
Gemming all nature in blazing array;
A picture more fairy-like never could be
Than this wonderful icicle filigree.

A crystallized world! What a marvelous sight,
Gorgeous and grand in the March sunlight!
The frost-king magician has changed the spring showers
To turquois and topaz and sapphire bowers.

And what is the lesson we learn from the sleet,
As toiling life's road with wearying feet,
Upward we strive, but failing so oft
In the struggles that bear us aright and aloft?

'Tis this that the hard breath of winter's chill blast
Alone can this mantle of loveliness cast;
And thus our sharp winds of trial may prove
Angels to weave us bright garments of love.

Nancy Campbell Glass

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Nancy Campbell Glass

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English

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Snowflakes.

    Of specious weight like tissue freight
The snowflakes are - in sparkle pure
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As volatile, as fine and rare
As thistle-down dispersed in air,
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    A ton or more against my door
They lie, and look, in form and tint,
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When war's alarum roused the land,
Wrought out by woman's loyal hand
From linen rag, and robe, and band -
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The shattered limb that bound and healed,
    Or stanched life's ebbing tide.

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They're Coming!

They're coming! And it seems so long
Since sadly autumn laid them low.
They left us with the robin's song,
They left us to the ice and snow.

They're coming! So the March wind saith.
Though singing songs with icy breath,
He's chanting of another May,
He's chanting of King Winter's death.

They're coming! 'Neath the forest's mold,
In mossy beds of ferny soil,
Slowly their tiny robes unfold,
Yet do they neither spin nor toil.

They're coming! With their influence pure,
Their emblematic power again
Of him who would our steps allure
To realms of love, devoid of pain.

They're coming! With the summer's breeze,
With azure skies and sunny showers,
With notes of birds and hum of bees
Who will not welcome back the flowers?

Nancy Campbell Glass

April

When April weeps, she wakes the flowers
That slept the winter through.
Oh, did they dream those frosty hours
That she would be untrue
And not awaken them in time
To smile their smiles of love,
To hear the robin's merry chime,
And gentle cooing dove?

And when they feel their mother's tears
So gently o'er them weep,
Will they tell her of their simple fears
And visions while asleep?
And will they tell her that they dreamed,
Beneath their sheets of snow,
Such weary dreamings that it seemed
The winter ne'er would go?

They'll soon be wide-awake and up,
In dainty robes arrayed,
Blue violet, gold buttercup,
And quaker-lady staid.
Wild eglantine and clustering thorn
Will grace the byway lanes,
Whilst woodland flowers the dells ...

Nancy Campbell Glass

A Sleet-Storm In May

On southern winds shot through with amber light,
Breathing soft balm and clothed in cloudy white,
The lily-fingered Spring came o'er the hills,
Waking the crocus and the daffodils.
O'er the cold Earth she breathed a tender sigh
The maples sang and flung their banners high,
Their crimson-tasselled pennons, and the elm
Bound his dark brows with a green-crested helm.
Beneath the musky rot of Autumn's leaves,
Under the forest's myriad naked eaves,
Life woke and rose in gold and green and blue,
Robed in the starlight of the twinkling dew.
With timid tread adown the barren wood
Spring held her way, when, lo! before her stood
White-mantled Winter wagging his white head,
Stormy his brow and stormily he said:
'The God of Terror, and the King of Storm,
Must I remin...

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The Pageant

A sound as if from bells of silver,
Or elfin cymbals smitten clear,
Through the frost-pictured panes I hear.

A brightness which outshines the morning,
A splendor brooking no delay,
Beckons and tempts my feet away.

I leave the trodden village highway
For virgin snow-paths glimmering through
A jewelled elm-tree avenue;

Where, keen against the walls of sapphire,
The gleaming tree-bolls, ice-embossed,
Hold up their chandeliers of frost.

I tread in Orient halls enchanted,
I dream the Sagas dream of caves
Gem-lit beneath the North Sea waves!

I walk the land of Eldorado,
I touch its mimic garden bowers,
Its silver leaves and diamond flowers!

The flora of the mystic mine-world
Around me lifts on crystal stems
Th...

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Winter Flowers.

The summer queen has many flowers
    To deck her sunny hair,
And trailing grasses, pure and sweet,
    To scent the heavy air;
And upward through the misty sky
    There is a glory too,
Of floating clouds and rifts of gold
    And depths of smiling blue.


Yet winter, too, can boast a wealth
    Of flowers pure and white;
A kingly crown of frosted gems--
    A wreath of sparkling light;
So bright and beautiful, indeed,
    It were a wondrous sight
To see a world of fragile flowers
    Sprung up within a night.

And sometimes there are cast'es, too,
    Of glittering ice and snow,
Piled high upon our window-panes
    'Neath curtains hanging low;
And they are like the castles fair
    Our day-dreams build for aye;
A ...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick