I look across the snow and see
The very highest, tallest tree
Of all the trees in that proud row;
And they're all nude as nude can be.
No leaves upon them anywhere;
Nothing but twigs and branches bare
That I can see. But suddenly,
Up there! On top of the tallest tree
The last Mock-Orange
Mocks at me!

Then I wonder, should I throw
A stone and knock it in the snow?
But if I did, would I suppose
It might have stayed, how long?
Had I not chose --to fling -
Or, did I try and miss;
Then I would have to gadabout
Searching for more stones. And it's
All frozen solid, out. I'd freeze
The very marrow in my bones!