A Song of Winter

it is addressed thusly:
A song.
it reads:
There was snow at the gates of heaven tonight
Falling fast, beyond man's ken
All made new in impenetrable white
And held fast the dwellings of men
Rime, the frost which holds and binds
Its hands gripped tight, primeval, grim--
And mystery still, unhandsome whim
That under heavy coldness grinds
With the water's edge - sharp and clear
White, not every-color here
Blessed be the man who finds
Safe and warm what he holds dear;

The billowed cloud which seems to breathe
A curse, or a warning where
Its breath comes forth, that makes it seethe
Snow on snow in snow-flecked air
The cruel north wind, the endless gray
Wind of winds! And winter-time
Singing hoarfrost, whistling rime
Thundering through its silent day
Except the voices - hear them rise
Edge and blade cut down to size
Bless the morning, clear the way
All you young, and all you wise.

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