Sounds of the winter too,
  Sunshine upon the mountains—many a distant strain
  From cheery railroad train—from nearer field, barn, house,
  The whispering air—even the mute crops, garner’d apples, corn,
  Children’s and women’s tones—rhythm of many a farmer and of flail,
  An old man’s garrulous lips among the rest, Think not we give out yet,
  Forth from these snowy hairs we keep up yet the lilt.