"Snow-Flakes" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It's been awhile since we've hung out with a classic poet so let's change that. While it's not snowing today, this lovely poem by our old friend Henry Wadsworth Longfellow felt in order for a December day. Enjoy!

Snow-Flakes
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the air

      Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

     Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take

     Suddenly shape in some divine expression,

Even as the troubled heart doth make

     In the white countenance confession,

The troubled sky reveals

The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air

     Slowly in silent syllables recorded;

This is the secret of despair,

     Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

Now whispered and revealed

To wood and field.

Found at: http://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/Classic%20Poems/Longfellow/snow-flakes.htm