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Year upon year apace had sped
Since that ski-journey up north;
The fugitives were forgotten,
And the pursuing pack.
Other things weighed on men’s minds:
Dearth and the lifting of cattle,
Depression wherever twain met,
At every fireside silence.
The old trees shook in the storm,
Winter ruled o’er the plain,
The peasants’ corn in the fields
Was beaten down by the frost.
Laden with snow was the spruce,
But the birch shook the burden off.
Bent was the underbrush,
And frozen stiff with the cold.
Sated was winter, and harkened
For signs of the storms to come,
Should they bring with them rain,
Or a message warm from the south.
Over the gasping village
The frost-king heavily brooded,
Crept to the bonder’s dwelling,
Staring sleepily in.
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