On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery, <br />Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage; <br />And talkng constrainedly of this and that <br />We refrained from looking at the child’s coffin on the seat before us. <br />When we reached the cemetery <br />We found that the thin snow on the grass <br />Was already transparent with rain; <br />And boards had been laid upon it <br />That we might walk without wetting our feet.<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/improvisations-light-and-snow-04/
