Moonlight bathed the sleeping land
With gentle, probing light,
And the breath from speeding horses
Formed great plumes of lacy white.
The runners made sweet music
As they moved in rhythmic beat
To the tune of crunchy, frost-spawned snow
Thrown far by homing feet.
And snuggled under blankets
So cozy warm we'd share
A mystic night of beauty
And scenes beyond compare.
For the sparkling sheen of moonglow
Was a sight that seemed to be
A fairyland of shapes and hues
And endless mystery.
And even now on moonlit nights
I feel my memory turn
To youthful days, to sleighing days;
And once again I yearn
To capture long-lost pleasure
And hear as long ago
The hoof beats and the runners
As they sang in worlds of snow.
"Sleighride Memories"
Johanna Ter Wee
American poetess
"Sleigh Ride"
(circa 1890-95)
Winslow Homer
(1836-1910)
American landscape artist
No comments:
Post a Comment