Poems (Curwen)/Snowflakes
Snowflakes.
Softly fall the snowflakes light Robing earth in bridal white: O'er her bosom bare and brown, Folding coverings of down; Spreading slowly, without sound Carpets o'er the frozen ground; Hiding Winter's nakedness 'Neath a garb of loveliness.
Softly, softly, still they fall In the garden, on the wall; In the churchyard drifting deep O'er the graves where loved ones sleep; In the city right among The noisy, busy, hurrying throng; In the hamlet, and the town The little flakes are fluttering down.
Faster, faster, now they come, Wee white messengers of doom To the stately ships that ride Out upon the ocean wide; Heralds of destruction they, Obscuring the seamen's way; Harbingers of coming ill, To sheep and shepherd on the hill.
Children! hasten with the bread, The birds are waiting to be fed, Pretty, trustful little things, They flutter down on eager wings, Chirping, as they hop about, Searching for the crumbs thrown out. How brightly robin's bosom glows Against the white of drifted snows. ·····Birdies, now the feast is o'er Hasten to your nests once more, Or the little snowflakes white Will hide your little homes from sight.