Classic Poem

'Twas yesterday, at early dawn,
I watched the falling snow;
A drearier scene on winter morn
Was never stretched below.

I could not see the mountains round,
But I knew by the wild wind's roar
How every drift, in their glens profound,
Was deepening ever more.

And then I thought of Ula's bowers
Beyond the southern sea;
Her tropic prairies bright with flowers
And rivers wandering free.

I thought of many a happy day
Spent in her Eden isle,
With my dear comrades, young and gay,
All scattered now so far away,
But not forgot the while!

Who that has breathed that heavenly air,
To northern climes would come,
To Gondal's mists and moorlands drear,
And sleet and frozen gloom?

Spring brings the swallow and the lark:
But what will winter bring?
Its twilight noons and evenings dark
To match the gifts of spring?

No! Look with me o'er that sullen main:
If thy spirit's eye can see,
There are brave ships floating back again
That no calm southern port could chain
From Gondal's stormy sea.

O how the hearts of the voyagers beat
To feel the frost-wind blow!
What flower in Ula's gardens sweet
Is worth one flake of snow?

The blast which almost rends their sail
Is welcome as a friend;
It brings them home, that thundering gale,
Home to their journey's end;

Home to our souls whose wearying sighs
Lament their absence drear,
And feel how bright even winter skies
Would shine if they were here!