On every side one vast expanse of snow,
The shrouded earth lies deathly still and white,
But the live air thrills with the thaw's delight;
The river, past the willows' crimson glow,
Snow-muffled, ice-bound, glides unseen below.
Like pendulum along its arc of light,
A blazing ball above the glittering height,
Enmeshed with golden threads, the sun swings low.
Far toward the east where buttes pile close and high
On their white slopes the strangest shadows lie,
Blue as reflections from the firmament;
As though some wild west wind had rudely rent
The mystic curtain of the sacred sky,
Then, frightened, dropped the fragments as he went.