High in my chamber in the frosty nights,
When in the still light of the cheerful moon,
On every twig and and rail and jutting spout,
The icy sprears were adding to their length
against the arrows of the coming sun;
Along the slopes,and through the meadows next,
Until its youthful sound was hushed at last.
In the staid current of the lowland stream;
Or seen the furrows shine but late upturned,
And where the fieldfare followed in the rear,
When all the fields around lay bound and hoar
Beneath a thick integument of snow,
So by God's cheap economy made rich
To go upon my winter's task again.
~from"Within the Circuit of This Plodding Life"
by Henry David Thoreau