“Oh, is there snow at Turbot's creek,
And have the white flakes covered
The old beach road, do rough winds shriek
Where last soft breezes hovered?
The woods that have been brown and bare,
Are they now dressed in white,
Like fairy palaces of rare
Sweet phantasies of light?
The streams, are they all frozen o'er --
The brook that tumbled down
Among its stones now sings no more, --
And do the gray clouds frown?
In fancy I can see the land
All silent, cold and still,
Within the grasp of Winter's hand,
The woodland and the hill.”
Edith Northin Hamer in "Kennebunkport Poems" 1939
A Silent Winter’s Day at Turbat’s Creek: Photo by Robert Dennis