Snowstorm

Snowflakes are dancing.

They run down out of heaven.

Coming home from somewhere down the long tired road

They flake us sometimes

The way they do the grass,

And the stretch of the world.

The grass-blades are crowned with snowflakes.

They make me think of daisies

With white frills around their necks

With golden faces and green gowns;

Poor little daisies,

Tip-toe and shivering

In the cold!