The April Snow-Storm - 1858.

Spread lightly, virgin shower,     Your winding-sheet of snow;     Winter has lost his power,     But mock not at his woe.     Fall not so cold and bleak,     Nor blow the breath of scorn;     Gently.    Thy sire is weak;     And thou, his latest-born.     Frail type of life thou art:     At first, pure as the snow     We come - abide - depart;     What more, th' Immortals know.     Fall gently, virgin shower,     Though wild the west wind raves;     Watch through this midnight hour     Above the new-made graves!                  -    -    -     Spread gently, virgin shower,     Your winding sheet of snow;     My heart has lost its power,     But mock not at its woe.     Fall not so cold and bleak,     Treat not her corse with scorn;     Gently.    My heart is weak;     She, too, was April-born.     Fall gently, virgin shower;     The heart once strong and brave     Hath lost its wonted power;     'Tis buried in her grave.