342 POEMS 
“THE SNOWING OF THE PINES” 
SorTErR than silence, stiller than still air, 
Float down from high pine boughs the slen- 
der leaves. 
The forest floor its annual boon receives 
That comes like snowfall, tireless, tranquil, 
fair. 
Gently they glide, gently they clothe the bare 
Old rocks with grace. Their fall a mantle 
weaves 
Of paler yellow than autumnal sheaves 
Or those strange blossoms the witch-hazels 
wear. 
Athwart long aisles the sunbeams pierce their 
way ; 
High up, the crows are gathering for the 
night ; 
The delicate needles fill the air ; the jay 
Takes through their golden mist his radiant 
flight ; 
They fall and fall, till at November’s close 
The snowflakes drop as lightly — snows on 
snows. 
