| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | IX. Snow | | By Park Benjamin (1809–1864) |
| | | FROM their innumerable breasts and wings— | |
| All undiscerned by these our mortal eyes, | |
| Hid in the folds of yonder misty skies, | |
| More like imagined sprites than real things— | |
| Celestial doves are shedding their white plumes, | 5 |
| And the whole land is covered with a shower | |
| Of motes as fair as is an unsunned flower | |
| Which, when it opens, yields its short-lived blooms | |
| Vestured all over like a bride in white, | |
| But colder than a corpse within its shroud; | 10 |
| The earth sleeps sparkling in the silver light | |
| Of the soft snow, which, like a feathery cloud, | |
| Still falls, as gently as Hope’s dreams, or Love’s, | |
| From the pure forms of those celestial doves. | | | | |
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