The First Snowfall

The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the nightHad been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl,And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. From sheds new-roofed with Carrara Came Chanticleer’s muffled crow,The stiff rails were softened to swan’s-down, And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky,And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, Like brown leaves whirling by. I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn Where a little headstone stood;How the flakes were folding it gently, As did robins the babes in the wood. Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?"And I told of the good All-father Who cares for us here below. Again I looked at the snow-fall, And thought of the leaden skyThat arched o’er our first great sorrow, When that mound was heaped so high. I remembered the gradual patience That fell from that cloud-like snow,Flake by flake, healing and hiding The scar of our deep-plunged woe. And again to the child I whispered, "The snow that husheth all,Darling, the merciful Father Alone can make it fall!" Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her; And she, kissing back, could not knowThat my kiss was given to her sister, Folded close under deepening snow. Read the latest issues of New Lyre, our journal of timeless art and culture. Click on covers to order hard copies directly from Amazon, or become a paid subscriber and download the latest issues here. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ageofmuses.substack.com/subscribe