 | Songs and ballads |  |
THE SNOW.
The silvery snow!—the silvery snow!—
Like a glory it falls on the fields below;
And the trees with their diamond branches appear
Like the fairy growth of some magical sphere;
While soft as music, and wild and white,
It glitters and floats in the pale moonlight,
And spangles the river and fount as they flow;
Oh! who has not loved the bright, beautiful snow!
Like a glory it falls on the fields below;
And the trees with their diamond branches appear
Like the fairy growth of some magical sphere;
While soft as music, and wild and white,
It glitters and floats in the pale moonlight,
And spangles the river and fount as they flow;
Oh! who has not loved the bright, beautiful snow!
The silvery snow, and the crinkling frost—
How merry we go when the Earth seems lost;
Like spirits that rise from the dust of Time,
To live in a purer and holier clime!—
A new creation without a stain—
Lovely as Heaven's own pure domain
But, ah! like the many fair hopes of our years,
It glitters awhile—and then melts into tears.
How merry we go when the Earth seems lost;
Like spirits that rise from the dust of Time,
To live in a purer and holier clime!—
A new creation without a stain—
Lovely as Heaven's own pure domain
But, ah! like the many fair hopes of our years,
It glitters awhile—and then melts into tears.
| Songs and ballads | |