620. The Snow Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson
b"Ralph Waldo Emerson read by Classic Poetry Aloud\\n\\nwww.classicpoetryaloud.com\\nTwitter: @classicpoetry\\nFacebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud\\n\\nGiving voice to the poetry of the past.\\n------------------------------------------------\\n\\n The Snow-Storm \\nby Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 \\u2013 1882)\\n\\nAnnounced by all the trumpets of the sky, \\nArrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, \\nSeems nowhere to alight: the whited air \\nHides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, \\nAnd veils the farm-house at the garden's end. \\nThe sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet \\nDelayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit \\nAround the radiant fireplace, enclosed \\nIn a tumultuous privacy of storm. \\n \\nCome see the north wind's masonry. \\nOut of an unseen quarry evermore \\nFurnished with tile, the fierce artificer \\nCurves his white bastions with projected roof \\nRound every windward stake, or tree, or door. \\nSpeeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work \\nSo fanciful, so savage, nought cares he \\nFor number or proportion. Mockingly, \\nOn coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; \\nA swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; \\nFills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, \\nMaugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate \\nA tapering turret overtops the work. \\nAnd when his hours are numbered, and the world \\nIs all his own, retiring, as he were not, \\nLeaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art \\nTo mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, \\nBuilt in an age, the mad wind's night-work, \\nThe frolic architecture of the snow.\\n\\nReading \\xa9 Classic Poetry Aloud, 2008."