Whole families,
Henry said, frequently perished together in such storms. No wonder that
the Aboriginal legends are full of "mighty Peboan, the Winter," and of
Kabibonokka a his lodge of snow-drifts.
The interest inspired by these simple narratives suggests the
reflection, that literature, which has thus far portrayed so few aspects
of external Nature, has described almost nothing of winter beauty.
In English books, especially, this season is simply forlorn and
disagreeable, dark and dismal.
"And foul and fierce
All winter drives along the darkened air."
"When dark December shrouds the transient
day,
And stormy winds are howling in their
ire,
Why com'st not thou?. ... Oh, haste to pay
The cordial visit sullen hours require!"
"Winter will oft at eve resume the breeze,
Chill the pale morn, and bid his driving
blasts
Deform the day delightless."
"Now that the fields are dank and ways are
mire,
With whom you might converse, and by the
fire
Help waste the sullen day."
But our prevalent association with winter, in the Northern United
States, is with something white and dazzling and brilliant; and it is
time to paint our own pictures, and cease to borrow these gloomy alien
tints. One must turn eagerly every season to the few glimpses of
American winter aspects: to Emerson's "Snow-Storm," every word a
sculpture,--to the admirable storm in "Margaret,"--to Thoreau's "Winter
Walk," in the "Dial,"--and to Lowell's "First Snow-Flake.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151