Henry Vanderford Poems

'Tis winter, drear winter, and cold the winds blow,
The ground is all cover'd with ice and with snow,
The trees are all gemm'd with a crystalline sheen,
No birdling or blossom are now to be seen.
...

At an early hour of the Sabbath morn,
Beside the ancient, sacred pile, I stood
Of old St. Ann's. The ivy careless clamber'd
Along its moss-grown, antique walls;
...

Ethereal mildness, gentle showers.
Springing verdure, opening flowers,
Apple blossoms, bobolinks,
...

On the mountains! Oh, how sweet!
The busy world beneath my feet!
...

The planets, forced by Nature's law,
Within their orbits ceaseless roll,
...