Soft as the fall of a beautiful thought,
Or a leaf on the stream,
White as the robe by purity wrought,
Bright as the flow of a dream.
Calm as a sleeping infant's breath,
Cold as the brow just touched by death,
Falleth in many a graceful wreath
Gently, the beautiful snow.
With the joys it has in store;
Falling to chill, in the hovel home,
The souls of the suffering poor.
Melting to pearls on the brow of the glad,
Melting to tears on the cheek of the sad,
What gladdens the one, drives the other mad,
Oh! coldly beautiful snow.
~ Mary T. Lathrap
Falling to chill, in the hovel home,
The souls of the suffering poor.
Melting to pearls on the brow of the glad,
Melting to tears on the cheek of the sad,
What gladdens the one, drives the other mad,
Oh! coldly beautiful snow.
~ Mary T. Lathrap
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