“A winter Eden”
A winter Eden in an older swamp
Where conies now come out to sun and ramp
as near as paradise can be
and not melt snow or start a dormant tree.
It lifts existence on a plane of snow
one level higher than the earth below,
one level nearer heaven overhead
and last year’s berries shining scarlet red.
It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast
where he can stretch and hold his highest feast
on some wild apple tree’s young tender bark
what well may prove the year’s high girdle mark.
Pairing in all known paradises ends:
here loveless birds now flock as winter friends,
content with bud inspecting, they presume
to say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.
A feather hammer gives a double knock
this Eden day is done at two o’clock
an hour of winter day might seem too short
to make it worth life’s while to wake and sport
by Robert Frost