Classic Poem

The winter afternoon
Is clear and still,
And Time sits thinking
On this frozen hill.

Stand high upon the rocks.
Take horn and blow.
Far out across the moor
The long notes go.

Pure, unassailable
And cold they fly,
Like silver javelins
Against the sky.

The rabbit suddenly
Attentive sits,
No stir about him but
His little wits:

Her hunger all forgot,
A speckled bird
Ponders with head on side
What she has heard.