“Snow” by Park Benjamin
Much like my Autumn poetry series, I am beginning a Winter poetry series. Stay tuned for more Wintry-themed gems from the nineteenth century. -Ann
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,
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,
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.