Second Thoughts, Midwinter

Wanderer in the Snow, Karl Hofer (1924)

A poet once stopped by a wood,
’Twas evening, snowy, still,
His little horse impatient stood,
He thought, I won’t, I will;

The sylvan shadows whispered pleas
To step down from his sleigh,
To seek repose among the trees,
To on cool snow drifts lay;

But he by promises was bound,
He was a promise keeper,
So though he heard that siren sound,
He drove on, not a sleeper.

So once one greater far than he
On lonesome errand bound,
May once have paused and heard a plea
That he too might step down.

There are coy shadows between stars,
Cool snow beds of repose,
His errand was to bear cruel scars—
Had he second thoughts?  Who knows!

But he by promises was bound,
He was a promise keeper,
And though he heard that siren sound,
He drove on, not a sleeper.

And on the morrow when he woke,
’Twas straw couched him, not snow,
’Twas not stars round, but simple folk—
His errand, scars, you know.

Winter Landscape, Caspar David Friedrich (1811)