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Read the poem: “The First Snow-Fall”

by James Russell Lowell

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American LiteratureAmerican PoetryJames Russell Lowell
< < < The Finding of the Lyre
The Flying Dutchman > > >


The First Snow-Fall


The snow had begun in the gloaming,
  And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
  With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
  Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
  Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
  Came Chanticleer’s muffled crow,
The stiff rails softened to swan’s-down,
  And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
  The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snowbirds,
  Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
  Where a little headstone stood;
How the flakes were folding it gently,
  As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,
  Saying, ‘Father, who makes it snow?’
And I told of the good All-father
  Who cares for us here below.

Again I looked at the snow-fall,
  And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o’er our first great sorrow,
  When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
  That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
  The scar that renewed our woe.

And again to the child I whispered,
  ‘The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
  Alone can make it fall!’

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her:
  And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
  Folded close under deepening snow.



< < < The Finding of the Lyre
The Flying Dutchman > > >

American LiteratureAmerican Poetry James Russell Lowell



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