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Snow

By Elizabeth W. Elder / February 16, 1982



You do not celebrate your virgin plan, Unlike your sister, rain, no cadence blends. Without a sound your spotless frost descends, But swift - and like the clever artisan, Your gentle flakes the hills and fields outspan. The great white pine in patient wonder bends, As with this sudden burden he contends, To touch the earth - a giant Puritan! Such beauty were perfection, but, alas, would hold imprisoned man and bird and beast. Come, let us stir the hearth coals in this hourglass, And with our books and thoughts in freedom feast. This warm content will quietly surpass All storms, until the whispering snow has ceased.

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