A Kentucky Cardinal a Story

All this New-year's Day of 1850 the sun shone cloudless but wrought no thaw. Even the land-scapes of frost on the window-panes did not melt a flower, and the little trees still keep their silvery boughs arched high above the jeweled avenues. During the afternoon a lean hare limped twice across the lawn, and there was not a creature stir-ring to chase it. Now the night is bitter cold, with no sounds outside but the cracking of the porches as they freeze tighter. Even the north wind...
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All this New-year's Day of 1850 the sun shone cloudless but wrought no thaw. Even the land-scapes of frost on the window-panes did not melt a flower, and the little trees still keep their silvery boughs arched high above the jeweled avenues. During the afternoon a lean hare limped twice across the lawn, and there was not a creature stir-ring to chase it. Now the night is bitter cold, with no sounds outside but the cracking of the porches as they freeze tighter. Even the north wind seems grown too numb to move. I had determined to convert its coarse, big noise into something sweet--as may often be done by a little art with the things of this life--and so stretched a horse-hair above the opening between the window sashes; but the soul of my harp has departed.