Classic Poem

Along this secret and forgotten road
All depths and forest forms, above, below,
Are plumed and draped and hillocked with the snow
A branch cracks now and then, and its soft load
Drifts by me in a thin prismatic shower;
Else not a sound, but vistas bound and crossed
With sheeted gleams and sharp blue shadows, frost,
And utter silence. In his glittering power
The master of mid-winter reveries
Holds all things buried soft and strong and deep.
The busy squirrel has his hidden lair;
And even the spirits of the stalwart trees
Have crept into their utmost roots, and there,
Upcoiled in the close earth, lie fast asleep.