'Twas passing late, the dying fire Served as the summons to retire, And soon the gentle wand of sleep, Which works the dream god's drowsy will, Laden with slumbers soft and deep, Passed over them and all was still. * * * * * * * * * * The storm was over, far and near, The heavens shone, so cold and clear That nebulæ and satellites, Unseen on ordinary nights, Now filled the broad expanse of sky With unaccustomed brilliancy; The astral vacuums and voids, Were filled with discs and asteroids; Dissevering the firmament, The Milky Way disclosed to sight Its pearly avenue of white With planetary crystals blent; Transparently it shone, and pale, As some celestial gauze or veil; A silvery baldric o'er the gold Of constellations manifold. A silence, undisturbed, prevailed, The wind no longer moaned and wailed, The elements had worked their will And now were motionless and still; From forest growth or underbrush No whisper broke the solemn hush; The tempest king on airy waves, Retreated to his secret caves, And chained the winds, which his behest Had lately stirred to wild unrest. The clouds had vanished, not a trace Remained upon the arch of space, To interpose a curtain rude Between earth and infinitude; Pellucid as the vault o'erhead, The snows a layer of beauty spread, Save where the genii of the storm Had fashioned in fantastic form, With alternating whirl and sift, The pendent comb and massive drift. The wilderness of ice and snow, Transfigured with a mellow glow, Received from the translucent skies The stellar groups and galaxies; A record of the starry waste, By Nature's faultless pencil traced; The vernal phalanxes of pine, In cassocks clear and crystalline, Seemed as a mirror, in whose sheen The glimmering lamps of night were seen. The replica of pearl and gem, In heaven's twinkling diadem; Golconda's treasury displayed, On background of the forest shade. Divested of their transient green, By Autumn winds in wanton rage, The aspen's leafless limbs were seen Festooned with frosty foliage; As fell upon their vestal white, The placid moon's aspiring light, The noble spruce and stately fir, Stood draped with feathery garniture; Configurated and embossed, With lace and tapestry of frost, In quaint and curious design, The willows and the underbrush, Were crystallized in silvery plush, And shimmered in the cold moonshine. * * * * *