Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
IX. Snow
By Park Benjamin (1809–1864)
FROM their innumerable breasts and wings—
  All undiscerned by these our mortal eyes,
  Hid in the folds of yonder misty skies,
More like imagined sprites than real things—
Celestial doves are shedding their white plumes,        5
  And the whole land is covered with a shower
  Of motes as fair as is an unsunned flower
Which, when it opens, yields its short-lived blooms
Vestured all over like a bride in white,
  But colder than a corpse within its shroud;        10
The earth sleeps sparkling in the silver light
  Of the soft snow, which, like a feathery cloud,
Still falls, as gently as Hope’s dreams, or Love’s,
From the pure forms of those celestial doves.

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