Explore "A Cure for Winter" by Dallas Lore Sharp on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
FOR, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone-
yet the snow lies white upon the fields, my little river huddles under the ice, and a new calendar hangs against the faded wall. But the storm is spent, the sun is out, there is a cheery _drip, drip, drip_ from the eaves, eggs are sixty cents a dozen, and I am writing to the golden cackle of my hens. New Year's Day, and winter gone! No, not quite gone, with eggs at such a price; still, it must be plain to every one that I can have but little of winter left: eggs are liable to come down any day.