Adnax Publications

Thomas Hardy

< Snow in the Suburbs >

Human Shows, Far Phantasies, Songs, and Trifles (1925, 85)

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 eye 
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.

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