![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8b/Flora%2C_a_book_of_drawings_-_illustration_at_page_32.png/200px-Flora%2C_a_book_of_drawings_-_illustration_at_page_32.png)
THE SNOWFLAKE
See, now, this filigree: ’tis snow,
Shaped, in the void, of heavenly dew;
On winds of space like flower to blow
In a wilderness of blue.
Black are those pines. The utter cold
Hath frozen to silence the birds’ green woods.
Rime hath ensteeled the wormless mould,
A vacant quiet broods.
Lo, this entranced thing!—a breath
Of life that bids Man’s heart to crave
Still for perfection: ere fall death,
And earth shut in his grave.
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