The black clouds but recently Had spread the whole heavens o'er, The oak on hill top but recently In beauty wondrous itself was priding. Thou hast risen, and up hast played, With terror resounded, and with splendor-- And away are driven the stormy clouds; Down is hurled the mighty oak. Let now then the sun's clear face With joy henceforth ever shine, With the clouds now the zephyr play, And the bush in quiet sway. 1824. WINTER MORNING. IV. 164. Frost and sun--the day is wondrous! Thou still art slumbering, charming friend. 'Tis time, O Beauty, to awaken: Ope thine eyes, now in sweetness closed, To meet the Northern Dawn of Morning Thyself a north-star do thou appear! Last night, remember, the storm scolded, And darkness floated in the clouded sky; Like a yellow, clouded spot Thro' the clouds the moon was gleaming,-- And melancholy thou wert sitting-- But now ... thro' the window cast a look: Stretched beneath the heavens blue Carpet-like magnificent, In the sun the snow is sparkling; Dark alone is the wood transparent, And thro' the hoar gleams green the fir, And under the ice the rivulet sparkles. Entire is lighted with diamond splendor Thy chamber ... with merry crackle The wood is crackling in the oven. To meditation invites the sofa. But know you? In the sleigh not order why The brownish mare to harness? Over the morning snow we gliding Trust we shall, my friend, ourselves To the speed of impatient steed; Visit we shall the fields forsaken, The woods, dense but recently, And the banks so dear to me. 1829. WINTER EVENING. IV. 166. The storm the sky with darkness covers, The snowy whirlings twisting; Like a beast wild now is howling, Like an infant now is crying; Over the aged roof now sudden In the straw it rustling is; Like a traveller now belated For entrance at our window knocking. With melancholy and with darkness Our little, aged hut is filled Why in silence then thou sittest By the window, wife old mine? Or by the howling storms art Wearied thou, O companion mine? Or perchance art slumbering, By the rustling spindle soothed? Let us drink, O kindly friend Of my poverty and youth, Away with grief,--where is the cup? Joy it shall bring to our heart. A song now sing me, how the bird Beyond the sea in quiet lived; A song now sing me, how the maiden In the morning for water went. The storm the sky with darkness covers, The snowy whirlings twisting; Like a beast wild now is howling, Like an infant now is crying. Let us drink, O kindly friend Of my poverty and youth, Away with grief,--where is the cup Joy it shall bring to our heart! 1826. THE WINTER-ROAD. IV. 161.