Drift over the sunrise land, <br />Oh, wonderful, wonderful snow! <br />Oh! pure as the breast of a virgin saint, <br />Drift tenderly, soft and slow. <br />Over the slopes of the sunrise land, <br />And into the haunted dells <br />Of the forest of pine, where the roving winds <br />Are tuning their memory bells. <br /> <br />Into the forests of sighing pines, <br />And over those yellow slopes, <br />That show not the work of the cleaving plow, <br />But cover so many hopes; <br />They are many indeed, and straightly made, <br />Not shapen with loving care; <br />By the souls let out and the broken blades, <br />May never be counted there! <br /> <br />Fall over those lonely hero graves, <br />Oh, delicate-dropping snow, <br />Like the blessing of God's unfaltering love, <br />On the warrior heads below! <br />Like the tender sigh of a mother's soul <br />As she waiteth and watcheth for One <br />Who will never come back from the sunrise land, <br />When this terrible war is done. <br /> <br />And here, where lieth the high of heart, <br />Drift - white as the bridal veil - <br />That will never be borne by the drooping girl <br />Who waiteth afar, so pale. <br />Fall, that as the tears of the suffering wife, <br />Who stretcheth despairing hands <br />Out to the blood-rich battlefields <br />That crimson the Eastern sands! <br /> <br />Fall in thy virgin tenderness, <br />Oh, delicate snow, and cover <br />The graves of our heroes, sanctified <br />Husband and son and lover. <br />Drift tenderly over those yellow slopes, <br />And mellow our deep distress, <br />And put us in mind of the shriven souls <br />And their mantles of righteousness.<br /><br />Anonymous Americas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-snow-at-fredericksburg/
