THE soft wind blows <br />Across the snows, <br />And turns the palest face to rose; <br />The wind it goes <br />Where no one knows, <br />Like water round the world it flows; <br />The sunlit air is warm and light <br />Though all the earth be wrapped in white. <br /> <br />But owlets shrill <br />Shriek round the hill <br />When twilight fades, and all is still; <br />The keen gusts fill <br />The frozen rill <br />With treacherous snowdrifts deep and chill; <br />The wanderer findeth small delight <br />In crossing there at dead of night.<br /><br />Edmund William Gosse<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-winter-jingle/
