Page:Poems Bushnell.djvu/27

VIII
OUTSIDE

Down the dark the snow is whirling,
 Driven blindly through the gloom;
   All its white
   Is lost to-night,
As some unseen force were hurling,
 Sinking it to hidden doom.
And the snow in vain, in vain,
Flutters upward in its pain;
It will fall to earth and stain.
 Impulse, flutter, wavering, fall,
 I, alas! have known them all;
 Dropped my little trembling light,
 Lost the lustre of my white,
 Find no longer rest or goal
 For my tired feet or soul,
 In a cloud of blind despair
 Turn as gladly here as there.

In yon firelight, brightly gleaming,
 Little phantoms, rosy red,
   Turn and meet
   With dancing feet.
Ah! the vision sets me dreaming,
 Till I wish that I were dead,

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