But snow is here, heaps and drifts of it, closing the city's schools, slowing its buses and subways and, for just a few hours, muffling its hustle and bustle. As our ancestors knew, there is no remedy for this except to consult the thoughts of poets and enjoy it.
"Lo. sifted through the winds that blow,
Down comes the soft and silent snow,
White petals from the flowers that grow
In the cold atmosphere.”
~ George W. Bungay
"Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow."
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
For number or proportion."
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies,
Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies;
The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare,
And shed their substance on the floating air.”
~ George Crabbe
"Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and earth below,
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet.
Dancing, Flirting, Skimming along."
~ J.W. Watson
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