EVERY branch big with it, Bent every twig with it; Every fork like a white web-foot; Every street and pavement mute: Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again. The palings are glued together like a wall, And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall. A sparrow enters the tree, Whereon immediately A snow-lump thrice his own slight size Descends on him and showers his head and eyes, And overturns him, And near inurns him, And lights on a nether twig, when its brush Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush. The steps are a blanched slope, Up which, with feeble hope, A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin; And we take him in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE THE NIGHT [NICHT] IS NEAR [NIGH] GONE by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE BALLADE OF BROKEN FLUTES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE FEAST OF THE DEAD by CHARLOTTE BECKER PSALM 95 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ON READING THAT THE REBUILDING OF YPRES APPROACHED COMPLETION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN AS TO MOONLIGHT by WITTER BYNNER THE ADIEU; WRITTEN .. THE IMPRESSION AUTHOR WOULD SOON DIE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |