By Hannah Flagg Gould
It snows! it snows! from out the sky
The feathered flakes, how fast they fly,
Like little birds, that don’t know why
They’re on the chase, from place to place,
While neither can the other trace.
It snows! it snows! a merry play
Is o’er us, on this heavy day!
As dancers in an airy hall,
That hasn’t room to hold them all,
While some keep up, and others fall,
The atoms shift, then, thick and swift,
They drive along to form the drift,
That weaving up, so dazzling white,
Is rising like a wall of light.
But, now the wind comes whistling loud,
To snatch and waft it, as a cloud,
Or giant phantom in a shroud;
It spreads! it curls! it mounts and whirls,
At length, a mighty wing unfurls;
And then, away! but, where, none knows,
Or ever will.—It snows! it snows!
To-morrow will the storm be done;
Then, out will come the golden sun:
And we shall see, upon the run
Before his beams, in sparkling streams,
What now a curtain o’er him seems.
And thus, with life, it ever goes;
‘T is shade and shine!—It snows! it snows!