The Snowstorm

Gentle as a maiden’s dream, Softly as the gliding stream, Falls the glittering, sparkling snow. With its wealth of crystal pearls⁠— Shining, pure-white coronals, With its robe of silvery sheen, Decking earth like virgin queen.

As the noiseless flakes descend, As they downward quickly tend, Floating waves of downy snow. Garnered from the upper realms; Harvested by unknown hands, Gulfed from cloudland’s brightest bower, Sent to earth as richest dower.

Symbol pure, and emblem sweet! Type of purity! ’twere meet That many swell the strain attuned. Clad with garb like angels wear⁠— Robed in heaven’s holiest gear⁠— Pure, white snow, I welcome thee, Hymning lays of minstrelsy.

Maiden

River, why in ceaseless flow Must you ripple to and fro? Stop a while. Lonely on thy bank I stand, On your shining, pebbly strand, Canst thou not a moment stay Through the long, long summer day? Stop a while.

River

Child of earth dost thou not know Ne’er can cease my endless flow? I must go. Onward till I reach my outlet, Out beyond the golden sunset, Seek not then to stay my flowing, Onward still I must be going To my goal.

Maiden

River, when the storms are raging, Wind and rain a warfare waging, Do you fear? When thy waves with whitened crest, Toss around in wild unrest, Doth thy bosom shake with fear, Trembling, lest thy end is near? Say, O! say.

River

Child, my race will ne’er be run Not till yonder blazing sun Fades away. Look t’wards the horizon’s crest, See the mighty Ocean’s breast, Now its billowy waves are still, He who says it is My will, Keepeth me.

Maiden

River, should’st thou chance to see, On thy journey through the lea, Snow white sail? Reaching out towards the clouds, Quivering with its massive shrouds, Touch it gently with thy arms, Shield it safe from rude alarms, It is mine.

River

Child of earth hast thou not heard? That He knows of beast and bird Every hair, Can He not then bring to thee Safe from o’er the murmuring sea. Mortal child O! ne’er despair, “Ship ahoy!” may greet thy ear, Soon, ay soon.

Maiden

River, then glide sweetly on, Till thy goal is safely won, Till at last Thou dost hear like thunder roar, Breaking from the golden shore, Awful words from sacred lore, Time for thee shall be no more. River, farewell.

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