The Snow

When it falls, the white new rounding, And if it be true, aware of the light, I am but light and soft and drawn, The joy of every snowy fold, In whispering flurry mood, Brings back to me the stag, Midway and phantom-winged בתוך עולם… For I am distant and near. Let me be but a golden greeting! Come soon to harbor.

—Henry David Thoreau

• Henry David Thoreau