“Tobogganing” by Hattie Howard




The Voice before the Void: Arcana, Story, Poetry show

Summary: Winter:<br> All downhill.<br> -The Voice before the Void<br> “Tobogganing”<br> Hattie Howard<br> Oh, the rare exhilaration,<br> Oh, the novel delectation<br> Of a ride down the slide!<br> Packed like ice in zero weather,<br> Pleasure-seekers close together,<br> On a board as thin as wafer,<br> Barely wider, scarcely safer,<br> At the height of recreation<br> Find a glorious inspiration,<br> Ere the speedy termination<br> In the snowy meadow wide,<br> Sloping to the river’s side.<br> Oh, such quakers we begin it,<br> Timorous of the icy route!<br> But to learn in half a minute<br> What felicity is in it,<br> As we shoot down the chute,<br> Smothered in toboggan suit,<br> Redingote or roquelaure,<br> Buttoned up (and down) before,<br> Mittens, cap, and moccasin,<br> Just the garb to revel in;<br> So, the signal given, lo!<br> Over solid ice and snow,<br> Down the narrow gauge we go<br> Swifter than a bird o’erhead,<br> Swifter than an arrow sped<br> From the staunchest, strongest bow.<br> Oh, it beats all “Copenhagen,”<br> Silly lovers’ paradise!<br> Like the frozen Androscoggin,<br> Slippery, and smooth, and nice,<br> Is the track of the toboggan;<br> And there’s nothing cheap about it,<br> Everything is steep about it,<br> The insolvent weep about it,<br> For the biggest thing on ice<br> Is its tip-top price;<br> But were this three times the money,<br> Then the game were thrice as funny.<br> Ye who dwell in latitudes<br> Where “the blizzard” ne’er intrudes,<br> And the water seldom freezes;<br> Ye of balmy Southern regions,<br> Alabama’s languid legions,<br> From the “hot blast” of your breezes,<br> Where the verdure of the trees is<br> Limp, and loose, and pitiful,<br> Come up here where branches bare<br> Stand like spikes in frosty air;<br> Come up here where arctic rigor<br> Shall restore your bloom and vigor,<br> Making life enjoyable;<br> Come and take a jog on<br> The unparalleled toboggan!<br> Such the zest that he who misses<br> Never knows what perfect bliss is.<br> So the sport, the day’s sensation,<br> Thrills and recreates creation.<br>