It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling, <br />And no wind grieves the walls. <br />In the small world of light around the arc-lamp <br />A swarm of snowflakes falls and falls. <br />The street grows silent. The last stranger passes. <br />The sound of his feet, in the snow, is indistinct. <br />What forgotten sadness is it, on a night like this, <br />Takes possession of my heart? <br />Why do I think of a camellia tree in a southern garden, <br />With pink blossoms among dark leaves, <br />Standing, surprised, in the snow? <br />Why do I think of spring? <br />The snowflakes, helplessly veering,, <br />Fall silently past my window; <br />They come from darkness and enter darkness. <br />What is it in my heart is surprised and bewildered <br />Like that camellia tree, <br />Beautiful still in its glittering anguish? <br />And spring so far away!<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/improvisations-light-and-snow-10/
