The Snow Storm
Snow is flying through the air
And swiftly drifting here and there,
Lying in masses upon the sand,
But the little snow-birds have no fear.
The sky above has a dark-gray cast;
The surging tides are ebbing fast;
I hear the ocean's bitter sigh
And see a huge ship's swaying mast.
Like some roughly scalloped wall,
The ocean shapes the flakes that fall
In faint outlines with its foam,
And leaves, echoing its dismal call.
A dark-gray haze o'ercasts the sea;
No flowers are seen upon the lea;
For chilling winds have brought them death,
And the day is a dismal one to me.
Everywhere the snow comes flying;
Clams, upon the beach are dying;
The frozen sleet along the strand
Is in accord with the ocean's sighing.
The sky keeps sending snowflakes down;
The sun has left us with a frown,
And the snow, imbedded in the earth,
Like it, is turning brown.
Great white flakes lie on my sill,
Falling fast where'er they will;
The winds echo to the ocean wild,
That's sending forth its dreadful thrill.
This poem is in the public domain.