God-Speed To The Snow
March is slain; the keen winds fly; Nothing more is thine to do; April kisses thee good-bye; Thou must haste and follow too; Silent friend that guarded well Withered things to make us glad, Shyest friend that could not tell Half the kindly thought he had. Haste thee, speed thee, O kind snow; Down the dripping valleys go, From the fields and gleaming meadows, Where the slaying hours behold thee, From the forests whose slim shadows, Brown and leafless cannot fold thee, Through the cedar lands aflame With gold light that cleaves and quivers, Songs that winter may not tame, Drone of pines and laugh of rivers. May thy passing joyous be To thy father, the great sea, For the sun is getting stronger; Earth hath need of thee no longer; Go, kind snow, God-speed to thee!
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"March is slain; the keen winds fly;..."
This evocative piece by Archibald Lampman, titled "God-Speed To The Snow", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...