Lo, what wonders the day hath brought, <br />Born of the soft and slumbrous snow! <br />Gradual, silent, slowly wrought; <br />Even as an artist, thought by thought, <br />Writes expression on lip and brow. <br /> <br />Hanging garlands the eaves o'erbrim, <br />Deep drifts smother the paths below; <br />The elms are shrouded, trunk and limb, <br />And all the air is dizzy and dim <br />With a whirl of dancing, dazzling snow. <br /> <br />Dimly out of the baffled sight <br />Houses and church-spires stretch away; <br />The trees, all spectral and still and white, <br />Stand up like ghosts in the failing light, <br />And fade and faint with the blinded day. <br /> <br />Down from the roofs in gusts are hurled <br />The eddying drifts to the waste below; <br />And still is the banner of storm unfurled, <br />Till all the drowned and desolate world <br />Lies dumb and white in a trance of snow. <br /> <br />Slowly the shadows gather and fall, <br />Still the whispering snow-flakes beat; <br />Night and darkness are over all: <br />Rest, pale city, beneath their pall! <br />Sleep, white world, in thy winding-sheet! <br /> <br />Clouds may thicken, and storm-winds breathe: <br />On my wall is a glimpse of Rome, - <br />Land of my longing! - and underneath <br />Swings and trembles my olive-wreath; <br />Peace and I are at home, at home!<br /><br />Elizabeth Akers Allen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snow-130/
