|So many people have asked me what is the magic that keeps me living way out here in the wilderness.
Below is a picture taken from my back door one winter's day. This is the view I have for about five months of the year. My life maybe humble, but there are no more beautiful riches anywhere in the world. I am truly blessed.
THE SNOW STORM
Gentle as a maiden's dream,
Softly as the gliding stream,
Falls the glittering, sparkling snow.
With its wealth of crystal pearls--
Shining, pure-white coronals,
With its robe of silvery sheen,
Decking earth like virgin queen.
As the noiseless flakes descend,
As they downward quickly tend,
Floating waves of downy snow.
Garnered from the upper realms;
Harvested by unknown hands,--
Culled from cloudland's brightest bower,
Sent to earth as richest dower.
Symbol pure, and emblem sweet!
Type of purity! 'twere meet
That many swell the strain attuned.
Clad with garb like angels wear--
Robed in heaven's holiest gear--
Pure, white snow, I welcome thee,
Hymning lays of minstrelsy.
By MARY WESTON FORDHAM
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See the pretty snowflakes
Falling from the sky.
On the walk and housetops
Soft and thick they lie.
On the windowledges
On the branches bare:
Now how fast they gather,
Filling all teh air.
Look into the garden,
Where the grass was green;
Covered by the snowflakes,
Not a blade is seen.
Now the bare black bushes
All look soft and white,
Every twig is laden -
What a pretty sight!