Classic Poem

The cows are bawling in the mountains,
Snowflakes fall.
They are leaving the pools and pebbled fountains,
Troubled, they bawl.
They are winding down the mountain"s shoulders
Through the open pines,
The wild rose thickets and the granite boulders
In broken lines.
Each calf trots close beside its mother,
And so they go,
Bawling and calling to one another
About the snow.