Poetry Friday

I know there's a "Poetry Friday" group out there... is it a Carnival? Is it exclusive? How do I sign up?

Anyway, even though I'm not officially a part of it, today is the perfect day to post this poem. We had a beautiful snow last night; it really did begin in the gloaming, and covered everything in a gorgeous white softness exactly as the poem describes.

Before we begin, a note: When I was a child, my dear aunt taught me this poem -- but only through the third stanza. That was all that she had learned, too, so it wasn't until a few years ago that we discovered the additional stanzas -- which are very sad. So, I'm only publishing the first three stanzas here.


The First Snow-Fall
by James Russell Lowell (1819-1891)

THE SNOW had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.













Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
Came Chanticleer’s muffled crow,
The stiff rails softened to swan’s-down,
And still fluttered down the snow.