White are the far-off plains
And white the fading forests grow
The wind dies out amongst the tides
And denser still the snow
A gathering weight on roof and tree
Falls down scarce audibly
The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snowfall hoods me around
In wood and water, earth and air
A silence is everywhere
Save when at lonely spells
Some farmer's sleigh is urged on
With rustling runner and sharp bells
Swings by me and is gone
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear
The barking of a dog
To cattle, is sharply pued
Borne, echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far afield
Then all is silent and the snow
Falls settling soft and slow
The evening deepens and the grey
Folds closer Earth to sky
The world seems shrouded, so far away
Its noises sleep, and I
As secret as yon buried stream
Plod dumbly on and dream
And dream
And dream
I dream
And I dream
