Poems (Curwen)/Snowflakes

by Annie Isabel Curwen

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.
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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.