Sounds of the winter too,
Sunshine upon the mountains — many a distant strain
From cheery railroad train — from nearer field, barn, house,
The whispering air — even the mute crops, garner’d apples, corn,
Children’s and women’s tones — rhythm of many a farmer and of flail,
An old man’s garrulous lips among the rest, Think not we give out yet,
Forth from these snowy hairs we keep up yet the lilt.