I

3 0 00

I

That year the autumn season late

Kept lingering on as loath to go,

All Nature winter seemed to await,

Till January fell no snow⁠—

The third at night. Tattiana wakes

Betimes, and sees, when morning breaks,

Park, garden, palings, yard below

And roofs near morn blanched o’er with snow;

Upon the windows tracery,

The trees in silvery array,

Down in the courtyard magpies gay,

And the far mountains daintily

O’erspread with Winter’s carpet bright,

All so distinct, and all so white!