'BEAUTIFUL SNOW'

Evening Star, Issue 16259, 31 October 1916, Page 6

'BEAUTIFUL SNOW'

AN AMERICAN POEM. [By a Lady.] In the early part of . the American Civil War, one dark Saturdav mormng m the dead of winter, there died at the Commercial Hospital, Cincinnati, a young woman over whose head only two-and-twenty summers had passed. She had once been possessed of an enviable share of beauty; had been, as she herself said, " flattered and sought for the charms of her face"; but, alas! upon her fair brow had long been written the terrible wordfallen! Once the pride of respectable parentage, her first wrong step was the small beginning of the "same old story over again," which has been the only life-history of thousands. Highly educated and accomplished in manners, she might have shone in the best of society. But the evil hour that proved her ruin was but the door from childhood ; and having spent, a young life in disgrace and shame, tho poor friendless one died the melancholy death of a brokenhearted outcast. Among her personal effects was found, in manuscript, the 'Beautiful Snow,' which was immediately carried to a gentleman of culture and literary taste, who was at that time editor of tho 'National Union.' Tn the columns of that paper, on the morning following the girl's death, iho poem appeared m print for the first time. When the'paper containing (he poem ramo out, on Sunday morning, tho body of the victim had not. yet received burial. The attention of one of the first American poets was soon directed to the newly-publjshcd lines, who was so taken with their stirring pathos that he immediately followed the corpse to its final rest bur-place. Such are the plain facto concerning her whose ' Beautiful Snow' will long be regarded os ono of tho brightest "gems in American literature. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and earth below, Over the housetops, over tho street. Over the heads of the people you meet; Dancing—Flirting—Skimming along : Beautiful snow! it can do no wrong, Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek. Clinging to lips in frolicsome freak; Beautiful snow from heaven above, Pure ns an angel, gentle as love! Oh ! tho snow, the beautiful snow, How Uie flakes gather and laugh as (hey so, Whirling about in maddening fun, It plays in its glee with every one: Chafing—Laughing—Hurrving by, It lights on the face and it "sparkles the eye; And the dogs with a bark and a bound Snap at the crystals as tho.v eddv round; J he town is alive, and its'heart in a clow To welcome the coming of beautiful snow! H°w wild the crowd goes swaying along Hailing each other with humor and song: How the gay sleighs like meteors flash by, Bright for a. moment, then lost to tho eye"; Ringing—.Swinging, Dashing they g'o, Over tho crust of the beautiful "snow— Snow so pure when it falls from the skv. lo be trampled in mud by the crowd pa^hi" by: To be, trampled and tracked by thousands of feet Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street. Once I was pure as the snow, but T fell, Feil like the r-uow—but from heaven to hell: Fell to be trampled as filiH of the street; Fell to be scoifed, to he spit, on and beat-; Pleading—Cursing—Dreading to die, Selling my soul to whoever would buy; ' Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread'; Hating the. living and fearing the dead! Merciful (Sod, have 1 fallen so low? And yet I was once like the beautiful snow. Once I was fair as tho beautiful snow, With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow ; Onco I was loved for my innocent grace Flattered and sought for the charms of mv face! J Father—Mother—Sisters— all, God and myself. I have lost bv my fall; The veriest, wretch that goes shivering by. Will make a wide sweep lest I wander i'oo nigh, For all that, is en or about mo I know There is nothing that's pure as the beautiful snovf. How strange it should bo that, this beautiful snow Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go! How. strange it should be when the nnrhtconies again. If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain. If Fainting—Freezing—Dying alone, Too wicked for prayer, too" weak for a moan To be heard in the streets of the crazy tow 11 (Gone made in the joy of now coining down), I should lie down mid die in mv terrible woe', With a, bed and a shrouj of" the beautiful snow! Helpless and foul as the trampled snow, Sinner, despair not! Christ stoopcth low To rescue the soul that is lost in sin. And raise it to life and enjoyment, again. Groaning—Bleeding—Dying for thee, The Crucified hung on the 'cursed tree! His accents of pity fall soft on thine ear. "Is there mercy for me? Will He heed my weak prayer? O Cod! in tho stream that for sinners did flow, Wash mc, and I shall be. whiter than snow!"