BEAUTIFUL SNOW

Evening Star, Issue 16822, 26 August 1918, Page 1

BEAUTIFUL SNOW

THE POEM AND THE WRITER. One dark Saturday morning in 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 ot an enviable share of beauty; had been, as she herself eaid, "flattered and sought for the charms of her face": but, alas! upon her fair brow had long been, written that terrible word—fallen 1 Ocoe the pride of respectable parentage, her first wrong step was the small beginning of the "same old story over agwn. ' which has been the only life-history of thousands. , , Highly educated *nd uooomphsoed m manners, ehe might have ehone an the best or society. But tho evil hour that proved her ruin was but the door from childhood; *uw having spent a young life in shame, tha poor friendless one died the melancholy death of a broken-hearted outcast. Among: her personal effect* was frrand» in manuscript, the 'Beautiful Snow,' whiea was immediately carried to Enos B. Reed, « gentleman of culture and literary tastes, who was at that time editor of the 'National Union.' In the columns of that paper, oc. the morning following girl's death, _ ih4 pcKm appeared in print tot th* &-•» trra*. When the paper containing the poem came out on Sunday morning, the body of the victim had not yet received burial. The attention of Thomas Buchanan Reed, one of the first American poets, was soon to the newlv published lines, and he was eb taken with" their stirring pathos that he immediately followed the corpse to it» final resting place. . Such ure the plain facts ooncerrung hes whose 'Beautiful Snow' will long be w> garded as one of the brightest gwrai ia American literature. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and earth below, Over the housetops, over the street, Over the heads ot tho people you meet; Dancing, flirting, skimming along. Beautiful snow! it can do no wrong; Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek, Glinging to lips in frolicsome freak.; Beautiful snow from heaven above, Pure as on angel, gentle as love! Oh: the snow, the beautiful snow, How tie flakes gather and laugh as they go, Whirling about in maddening tun: Chasing, laughing, hurrying by. It 'lish-ts on the face, and it sparkles the eye; And"the dogs, with a bark and a bound, Knap at- the crystals as they eddy around; The town is alive and its heart in a glow, To welcome the coming of beautiful 6now. How wild the crowd goes swaying along, Hailing each other with humor and song; flow the S a y sleighs like meteors flash by. Bright for the moment, then lost to tho eye; Ringing, swinging, dashing they go Over the crust of the beautiful snow; Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet.

Till it blends with th* filth in tha horrible stree*.

Onoe J was pare as the snow, but I fell, Foil Like the snowftakes fiom toaveu to hail, Fell to bo trampled as filth on tie street. Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on, and beat; Pleading, cursing-, dreading bo die, Selling my soul to whoever would buy; Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread. Hating tho living- and fearing ti» dead. Merciful God! liavn I fa.Usn so low?

And yet I -was once like the beautiful snow* Once I whs fair a£ ihe beautiful snow.

With an eye like a crystal, a heart Jik6 it*

Once I was loved for my innocent grace— Flattered and sought for tbo charms of my face! Fathers, mothers, meters, all— God and myeelf 1 buve lost by my fall. Tio reriptc -wretch thai goes shivering by Will make a -wide sweep lest I "wander too nigh ; For *ll that is on or above me I know, There is nothing bo pure m the beautiful snow.

Sow strange it should be that this beautiful

puow Should fall on a saner -with nowhew to go J Host strange tt fthouM be when the nigbi cam ft again If the -snow and i-h* ice struck my desperate brain, Painting, freezing, djeng alone. Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a. moan. To be heard in the streets of the eim*y town* Gon« n.ad in tie joy of the snow oomsng down, To be and to die in my terrible woe, With a bed aod a shroud of tha beawtaftfl snow.

Helpless and foul as -the trampled mow. Sinner, despair not! Christ stoopeth k«r To rescue tie soul that is lost in iin, And raise it to life and enjoyment again. Groaning Wjtedinj, dying far thee. The Crucified ta Kg on the cursed tree! His aooenta of Stiercy fell soft on thine car, "Is there mercy for me? Will he head my weak prayer P" 0 God, in the str-awn thai for einncrs diS flow,

Wa*h me, and I shall bo whiter than snow.