A Brave Refrain

When snow is here, and the trees look weird,      And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost;     When the breath congeals in the drover's beard,      And the old pathway to the barn is lost;     When the rooster's crow is sad to hear,      And the stamp of the stabled horse is vain,     And the tone of the cow-bell grieves the ear -      O then is the time for a brave refrain!     When the gears hang stiff on the harness-peg,      And the tallow gleams in frozen streaks;     And the old hen stands on a lonesome leg,      And the pump sounds hoarse and the handle squeaks;     When the woodpile lies in a shrouded heap,      And the frost is scratched from the window-pane     And anxious eyes from the inside peep -      O then is the time for a brave refrain!     When the ax-helve warms at the chimney-jamb,      And hob-nailed shoes on the hearth below,     And the house-cat curls in a slumber calm,      And the eight-day clock ticks loud and slow;     When the harsh broom-handle jabs the ceil      'Neath the kitchen-loft, and the drowsy brain     Sniffs the breath of the morning meal -      O then is the time for a brave refrain!     ENVOI     When the skillet seethes, and a blubbering hot     Tilts the lid of the coffee-pot,     And the scent of the buckwheat cake grows plain -     O then is the time for a brave refrain!