large/12918/snow_storm_1901/snowstorm_young_sh_64kb_6
large/12918/snow_storm_1901/snowstorm_young_sh_64kb
English
12918
Then who shall say the tempest's work Brings more of pain than joy; Or that the evil things, to us Are pain, without alloy? THEN WHO SHALL SAY THE TEMPEST'S WORK BRINGS MORE OF PAIN THAN JOY OR THAT THE EVIL THINGS TO US ARE PAIN WITHOUT ALLOY
dly raging storm Makes all things bleak and bare, Beside the fire we brave it well, And closer draw our chair. In social fellowship, our hearts With kindly thoughts grow warm; Then is there not a pleasant side, E'en to a raging storm? And when the angry storm has calm'd, As ev'ry storm must do, Then, sure, the tempest's handiwork, Has pleasant features, too. An artist's eye would look around, Upon these calmer days, And view the pure white heaps of snow, With pleas'd and puzzl'd gaze. Like purest marble, deftly carv'd, They stretch o'er vale and hill, Fair monuments, not made by man, But rear'd by nature's skill. The sweeping curve, the graceful arch, The line so firm and free; A skilful sculptor well might say: "Can this teach aught to me?" The trees are rob'd in purest white, And gleaming atoms shine From out the snow, beneath the sun, Like stones from Ophir's mine. The merry shouts of busy men Sound, as they dig the snow; And, when the way is clear, the bells With joyful jingle, go. W A CALM WILL COME AGAIN AND THOUGH THE WILDLY RAGING STORM MAKES ALL THINGS BLEAK AND BARE BESIDE THE FIRE WE BRAVE IT WELL AND CLOSER DRAW OUR CHAIR IN SOCIAL FELLOWSHIP OUR HEARTS WITH KINDLY THOUGHTS GROW WARM THEN IS THERE NOT A PLEASANT SIDE IN TO A RAGING STORM AND WHEN THE ANGRY STORM HAS CALMED AS EVERY STORM MUST DO THEN SURE THE TEMPEST'S HANDIWORK HAS PLEASANT FEATURES TOO AN ARTIST'S EYE WOULD LOOK AROUND UPON THESE CALMER DAYS AND VIEW THE PURE WHITE HEAPS OF SNOW WITH PLEASED AND PUZZLED GAZE LIKE PUREST MARBLE DEFTLY CARVED THEY STRETCH O'ER VALE AND HILL FAIR MONUMENTS NOT MADE BY MAN BUT REARED BY NATURE'S SKILL THE SWEEPING CURVE THE GRACEFUL ARCH THE LINE SO FIRM AND FREE A SKILFUL SCULPTOR WELL MIGHT SAY CAN THIS TEACH AUGHT TO ME THE TREES ARE ROBED IN PUREST WHITE AND GLEAMING ATOMS SHINE FROM OUT THE SNOW BENEATH THE SUN LIKE STONES FROM OPHER'S MINE THE MERRY SHOUTS OF BUSY MEN SOUND AS THEY DIG THE SNOW AND WHEN THE WAY IS CLEAR THE BELLS WITH JOYFUL JINGLE GO
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