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Old Winter’s joys are many; keen and bracing is his air,
Tracing forms of grace and beauty on the window-pane;
Yet when days begin to lengthen, and the twilight’s shining fair,
I long to hear the tinkle of the cow-bells once again.
Jingle, jangle, throught the tangle
Of the bramble down the lane,
Shady trees and gentle breeeze,
Falling waters, breaking seas,
How I long to hear the cow-bells once again!
Right merrily the sleigh-bells sound upon my ear to-night;
Up the river whirl the skaters, each bound first the goal to gain,
Each nerve with rapture tingles; yet, for all the gay delight,
I long to hear the bell-cow browsing down the brook again.
Tinkle, tankle, round her ankle
Swirls the brooklet down the lane.
In the bush the hermit thrush
Sings his plaint so quaintly lush--
How I long to hear the cow-bells again!
When low the storm-cloud hovers, and the wind goes roaring past,
When patter on the window dashing, splashing, drops of rain,
Then hearth and light are cozy, but my heart cries out at last,
I long to wander where the cow-bells jangle once again!
Jangle, jingle, through the dingle
Sound the cow-bells up the lane.
Zephyrs blow and sweet springs flow,
O’er the sky the swallows go--
How I long to hear the cow-bells once again!
This poem is in the public domain.
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I have been unable to locate any biographical information on Charles Frederic Robinson. It's possible that he attended Dartmouth College, graduated in 1890, and became a minister, though great effort on the part of the college's Reading Room Supervisor, Andi Bartelstein, failed to confirm this. YDP greatly appreciates her research on our behalf.
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