Explore "Border Snowstorms" by John Lang on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"St. Agnes' Eve -- ah, bitter chill it was! / The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; / The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, / And silent was the flock in woolly fold."
The great round-backed, solemn Border hills, in summer time kindly sleeping giants, smiling in their sleep, take on another guise when winter smites with pitiless blast, when