Snow

White are the far-off plains, and white     The fading forests grow;     The wind dies out along the height,     And denser still the snow,     A gathering weight on roof and tree,     Falls down scarce audibly.     The road before me smooths and fills     Apace, and all about     The fences dwindle, and the hills     Are blotted slowly out;     The naked trees loom spectrally     Into the dim white sky.     The meadows and far-sheeted streams     Lie still without a sound;     Like some soft minister of dreams     The snow-fall hoods me round;     In wood and water, earth and air,     A silence everywhere.     Save when at lonely intervals     Some farmer's sleigh, urged on,     With rustling runners and sharp bells,     Swings by me and is gone;     Or from the empty waste I hear     A sound remote and clear;     The barking of a dog, or call     To cattle, sharply pealed,     Borne echoing from some wayside stall     Or barnyard far a-field;     Then all is silent, and the snow     Falls, settling soft and slow.     The evening deepens, and the gray     Folds closer earth and sky;     The world seems shrouded far away;     Its noises sleep, and I,     As secret as yon buried stream,     Plod dumbly on, and dream.