SNOW
White are
the far-off plains, and white
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree,
5
Falls down scarce audibly.
The road
before me smooths and fills
Apace, and all about
The fences dwindle, and the hills
Are blotted slowly out;
10
The naked trees loom spectrally
Into the dim white sky.
The meadows
and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
15
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere.
Save when
at lonely intervals
Some farmer’s sleigh, urged
on,
20
With rustling runners and sharp bells,
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear;
The barking
of a dog, or call
25
To cattle, sharply pealed,
Borne echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far a-field;
Then all is silent, and the snow
Falls, settling soft and slow.
30
The evening
deepens, and the gray
Folds closer earth and sky;
The world seems shrouded far away;
Its noises sleep, and I,
As secret as yon buried stream,
35
Plod dumbly on, and dream.
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