The old familiar sights of ours Took marvelous shapes: strange domes and towers 15 Rose up where sty or corncrib stood, Or garden wall, or belt of wood; A smooth white mound the brush pile showed, A fenceless drift what once was road; The bridle post an old man sat, 20 With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; The well curb had a Chinese roof; And even the long sweep, high aloof, In its slant splendor, seemed to tell Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 25

All day the gusty north wind bore The loosening drift its breath before; Low circling round its southern zone, The sun through dazzling snow mist shone. No church bell lent its Christian tone 30 To the savage air; no social smoke

Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year — Part 117

Curled over woods of snow-hung oak; A solitude made more intense By dreary-voicèd elements-- The shrieking of the mindless wind, The moaning tree boughs swaying blind, 5 And on the glass the unmeaning beat Of ghostly finger tips of sleet.

Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year — Part 117

1. Outline, stanza by stanza, the story told. Who tells it? Where is the scene laid? How many days and nights are covered?

Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year — Part 117

2. Compare this with the previous poem for clearness, pleasant sound, pictures shown, new ideas. Which do you like better? The last line of "The Snowstorm" interprets lines 14-25, page 197. How?

3. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts. _Snow-bound_, from which this extract is taken, gives a good description of his home and family. A great deal of his writing was done while editor of various magazines and newspapers. He was for a long time connected with the _Atlantic Monthly_. Many of his poems describe country life in New England; others retell old stories of pioneer days. He died at Amesbury, Massachusetts.

It was a charming evening, mild and bright. The four grays skimmed along, as if they liked it quite as well as Tom did; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays; the coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice; the wheels hummed cheerfully in unison; the brass work on 5 the harness was an orchestra of little bells; and thus as they went clinking, jingling, rattling smoothly on, the whole concern, from the buckles of the leaders' coupling reins to the handle of the boot, was one great instrument of music.