Which lines describe the ice wrapping the tree branches?
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.