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| O THE SNOW, the beautiful snow, | |
| Filling the sky and the earth below! | |
| Over the house-tops, over the street, | |
| Over the heads of the people you meet, | |
| Dancing, | 5 |
| Flirting, | |
| Skimming along. | |
| Beautiful snow! it can do nothing wrong. | |
| Flying to kiss a fair lady’s cheek; | |
| Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak; | 10 |
| Beautiful snow, from the heavens above, | |
| Pure as an angel and fickle as love! | |
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| O the snow, the beautiful snow! | |
| How the flakes gather and laugh as they go! | |
| Whirling about in its maddening fun, | 15 |
| It plays in its glee with every one. | |
| Chasing, | |
| Laughing, | |
| Hurrying by, | |
| It lights up the face and it sparkles the eye; | 20 |
| And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound, | |
| Snap at the crystals that eddy around. | |
| The town is alive, and its heart in a glow, | |
| To welcome the coming of beautiful snow. | |
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| How the wild crowd go swaying along, | 25 |
| Hailing each other with humor and song! | |
| How the gay sledges like meteors flash by,— | |
| Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye! | |
| Ringing, | |
| Swinging, | 30 |
| Dashing they go | |
| Over the crest of the beautiful snow: | |
| Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, | |
| To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by; | |
| To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feet | 35 |
| Till it blends with the horrible filth in the street. | |
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| Once I was pure as the snows,—but I fell: | |
| Fell, like the snow-flakes, from heaven—to hell: | |
| Fell, to be tramped as the filth of the street: | |
| Fell, to be scoffed, to be spit on, and beat. | 40 |
| Pleading, | |
| Cursing, | |
| Dreading to die, | |
| Selling my soul to whoever would buy, | |
| Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread, | 45 |
| Hating the living and fearing the dead. | |
| Merciful God! have I fallen so low? | |
| And yet I was once like this beautiful snow! | |
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| Once I was fair as the beautiful snow, | |
| With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its glow; | 50 |
| Once I was loved for my innocent grace,— | |
| Flattered and sought for the charm of my face. | |
| Father, | |
| Mother, | |
| Sisters all, | 55 |
| God, and myself, I have lost by my fall. | |
| The veriest wretch that goes shivering by | |
| Will take a wide sweep, lest I wander too nigh; | |
| For all that is on or about me, I know | |
| There is nothing that ’s pure but the beautiful snow. | 60 |
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| How strange it should be that this beautiful snow | |
| Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go! | |
| How strange it would be, when the night comes again, | |
| If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain! | |
| Fainting, | 65 |
| Freezing, | |
| Dying alone, | |
| Too wicked for prayer, too weak for my moan | |
| To be heard in the crash of the crazy town, | |
| Gone mad in its joy at the snow’s coming down; | 70 |
| To lie and to die in my terrible woe, | |
| With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow! | |
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