A Brave Refrain

When snow is here, and the trees look weird, And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost; When the breath congeals in the drover's beard, And the old pathway to the barn is lost; When the rooster's crow is sad to hear, And the stamp of the stabled horse is vain, And the tone of the cow-bell grieves the ear-- O then is the time for a brave refrain! When the gears hang stiff on the harness-peg, And the tallow gleams in frozen streaks; And the old hen stands on a lonesome leg, And the pump sounds hoarse and the handle squeaks; When the woodpile lies in a shrouded heap, And the frost is scratched from the window-pane And anxious eyes from the inside peep-- O then is the time for a brave refrain! When the ax-helve warms at the chimney-jamb, And hob-nailed shoes on the hearth below, And the house-cat curls in a slumber calm, And the eight-day clock ticks loud and slow; When the harsh broom-handle jabs the ceil 'Neath the kitchen-loft, and the drowsy brain Sniffs the breath of the morning meal-- O then is the time for a brave refrain! ENVOI When the skillet seethes, and a blubbering hot Tilts the lid of the coffee-pot, And the scent of the buckwheat cake grows plain-- O then is the time for a brave refrain!