Part 9

Where is the rain? Pattering it came, Dancing along with a merry sound, A grassy bed in the fields it found; Each drop came on the roof with a bound. Where is the rain? It hath left the ground. What good hath it done— Gone away so soon?

Ever, ever, Our best endeavor Seemeth to fall like the melted snow. We work out our thoughts wisely and slow; The seed we sow, but it will not grow. Our hopes, our resolves,—where do they go? What doth remain? Memory and pain.

Nothing is lost,— No snow nor frost That comes to enrich the earth again. We thank them when the ripening grain Is waving over the hill and plain, And the pleasant rain springs from earth again. All endeth in good,— Water and food.

Never despair; Disappointment bear; Though hope seemeth vain, be patient still; Thy good intent God doth fulfill; Thy hand is weak; his powerful will Is finishing thy life-work still. The good endeavor Is lost—ah! never.

Selected.

Snow-Flakes.

See the feathery snow-flakes Falling from the sky! Myriads; yet so softly, There’s no sound or sigh. Mother Earth’s brown raiment Doffs she for her white; For a fairy’s wand, transforming, Hides it out of sight.

Fairy little snow-flakes, Dancing as ye fall, Resting on the rough old rock By the garden wall, There’s no spot so dreary, Naught so black and cold, But your mantle may o’erspread With its falling fold.

Starry little snow-flakes, Blossoms of the sky, Blooming when earth’s daisies Fast asleep all lie, Are ye beauty’s raiment, On her bridal morn? Or the floating garments By the frost fays worn?

Tell me, mystic snow-flakes, Is your home so far You can hear the singing Of the morning star?— Hear the grand, sweet chorus, As the spheres move on, In their slow, majestic march Round the great white throne?

What are ye, fair snow-flakes, To the King of kings? Unto Him who walketh On the wind’s swift wings, Maketh clouds his chariot, Light no man can see Weareth for a garment,— Snow-flakes, what are ye?

Of his spotless purity But a shadow dim And the silence of our coming Speaketh, too, of Him. Mortals, stay your tear-drops! One day you shall know What it is to be, like Him, “Whiter than the snow.”

H. Maude H.

The Snow-Shower.

Stand here by my side, and turn, I pray, On the lake below thy gentle eyes; The clouds hang over it heavy and gray, And dark and silent the water lies; And out of that frozen mist the snow In wavering flakes begins to flow; Flake after flake, They sink in the dark and silent lake.

See how in a living swarm they come From the chambers beyond that misty vail; Some hover awhile in the air, and some Rush from the sky like summer hail. All, dropping swiftly or settling slow, Meet and are still in the depth below; Flake after flake, Dissolved in the dark and silent lake.

Here, delicate snow-stars, out of the cloud, Come floating downward in airy play, Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd That whitens by night the milky way; There broader and burlier masses fall: The sullen water buries them all, Flake after flake, All drowned in the dark and silent lake.

And some, as on tender wings they glide From their chilly birth-cloud dim and gray, Are joined in their fall, and, side by side, Come clinging along their unsteady way; As friend with friend, or husband with wife, Makes hand in hand the passage of life: Each mated flake Soon sinks in the dark and silent lake.

Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste Stream down the snows till the air is white, As, myriads by myriads madly chased, They fling themselves from their shadowy hight; The fair frail creatures of middle sky, What speed they make with their grave so nigh; Flake after flake To lie in the dark and silent lake!

I see in thy gentle eyes a tear; They turn to me in sorrowful thought; Thou thinkest of friends, the good and the dear, Who were for a time and now are not; Like these fair children of cloud and frost, That glisten a moment, and then are lost, Flake after flake,— All lost in the deep and silent lake.

Yet look again, for the clouds divide; A gleam of blue on the mountain lies, And far away on the mountain-side A sunbeam falls from the opening skies; But the hurrying host, that flew between The cloud and the water, no more is seen; Flake after flake At rest in the dark and silent lake.

William Cullen Bryant.

Questions and Answers.

Pretty little snow-flake, Floating softly by, Bringest thou a message From the fleecy sky?

Yes, ah, yes, a lesson Beautiful as true; Silent be, but busy, When you’ve work to do. Avalanche and snow-drift Grow from single flakes; Every crystal helping, Yet no noise it makes.

Glittering little snow-flakes, White as white can be, How can I be spotless, Chaste, and pure, like thee?

All that comes from heaven Perfect is, like God; But, alas! the sinner Earthly ways has trod; Yet, to God returning, Thence anew to grow, Sins, though they be scarlet, Shall be white as snow.

Loving little snow-flake, Tender is thy tread, Weaving o’er the flowers Dainty coverlet.