Angels and Sinners?
Wild whiteness wracks from wind-chipped, chilly clouds of gloom
That greyly glower, flatly, in the darkling skies
To blot, from keenest sight the lightless countryside
Behind diffusive, dapple-dusted curtain-walls.
Whoever would suppose, (who did not recognise
The portents), that from these depressing depths of doom
There could emerge such beauty; until softly falls
Snow’s lucent, pure effulgence, spreading far and wide?.
Down drops the tumbling, whirling whiteness, drifting deep
On house, on hill, on hedgerow as its spangled sheen
Covers the grimy ground, until the only green
Remaining to the view is that which trees still keep.
This stark proximity of lambent snow and darksome trees
Might sign angels and sinners met, together, on their knees!.
