The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound of the wind, That is the sound of the land full of the same wind That is blowing in the bone and the sky.

And if the sound of the wind is not. If this is not the same wind, Then what is it? What is it? What is the thing that is always blowing, Always in the mind of winter, Always in the distance?

So it must go; Until we may not think of this little amenity.

• Wallace Stevens