Snow.
BBUT yestermorn the February snowLay printless as the heaven upon this field,And, with a rapture in my bosom born,In sudden awe and reverence I kneeledAlone beneath the glory of the skyAnd omnipresent deity. To-dayThe spirit of the beautiful no moreOver the wondering earth, in earnest glowTouches to beauty all the landscape grey,—Bringing a vision from her palace highTo this sublunar planet. Now, forlornAs Ariadne on Cretan shoreFor many bitter-cold and weary daysShe knoweth not her old immortal ways.
BBUT yestermorn the February snowLay printless as the heaven upon this field,And, with a rapture in my bosom born,In sudden awe and reverence I kneeledAlone beneath the glory of the skyAnd omnipresent deity. To-dayThe spirit of the beautiful no moreOver the wondering earth, in earnest glowTouches to beauty all the landscape grey,—Bringing a vision from her palace highTo this sublunar planet. Now, forlornAs Ariadne on Cretan shoreFor many bitter-cold and weary daysShe knoweth not her old immortal ways.
BBUT yestermorn the February snowLay printless as the heaven upon this field,And, with a rapture in my bosom born,In sudden awe and reverence I kneeledAlone beneath the glory of the skyAnd omnipresent deity. To-dayThe spirit of the beautiful no moreOver the wondering earth, in earnest glowTouches to beauty all the landscape grey,—Bringing a vision from her palace highTo this sublunar planet. Now, forlornAs Ariadne on Cretan shoreFor many bitter-cold and weary daysShe knoweth not her old immortal ways.
B