Matins

He walked by me with open eyes, And wondered that I loved it so; Above us stretched the gray, gray skies; Behind us, foot-prints on the snow. Before us slept a dark, dark wood. Hemlocks were there, and little pines Also; and solemn cedars stood In even and uneven lines. The branches of each silent tree Bent downward, for the snow's hard weight Was pressing on them heavily; They had not known the sun of late.