THE BEAUTIFUL S10W.

"BY ONH MORS 11NPORTUNATK.''

The lollowing exquisite poem is the

production of an unknown author. It is

one of the most tender and beautiful po­

etical effusions to be found in tho whole

range of English literature. It has been

read with delight everywhere, and has

recently been beautifully illustrated and

published in book form.

The rare occurru-ice of snow in this

section calls forth more than the usual

delight of places to the North and West

of us and we know that the re-production

of these beautiful lines will not be out of

place at tins time, or "cnestnutt an

some think, to the admirers of true po

etry:

Oil, the snow, the beautiful snow,

Filling the sky and the earth below;

Over the house-tops, over the street,

Over the heaasoi the people you meet.

Dancing,

Flirting,

Skimming alone;;

Beautiful snow ! it can do no wrong;

Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,

Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak,

Kcautitul snow Iroin tlie Heaven above,

Pure as angel, gentle sb dove.

Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,

How the flukes gather and laugh us 'they

KO

Whirling about in their maileiiing fun,

It plays in its glee with every one.

Uliasing,

Laughing,

Hurrying ly

It lights on the face aud sparkles in the

eye,

And even the dogs with a bark and a

bound,

SnRp at the crystals that eddy around

The town is alive and its heart in a glow !

To welcome the coming of the beautiful

snow I

How the wild crowd goes swaying along,

Hailing each other with humor and

song I

How the gay sledges, liko meteors, flush

by;

Bright for a moment, then lost to the

eye

Ringing,

Swinging,

Dancingthey go

Over the crust of the beautiful snow;

Snow so pure when it fallB from the sky,

To be trampled in mud by the crowd

rushing hy.

To be trampled and tracked by thous

ands of feet.

Till it blends with the filth of the horri

ble street.

Once I was pure as the snow but I fell !

Fell like the snow-nakes, from lloaven to

hell!

Fell to be trampled as filth in the street:

Fell to be scoffed, to he spit on ami

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 God have I fallen so low ?

And yet I was once like the beautiful

snow.

Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,

With an eye like its crystal, a heart like

its glow;

Flattered and Bought for the ehurum of

my lace

Futher,

Mother,

Hitters all,

God and myself I've lost by my fall:

The vilest wretch that goe9 shivering by.

Will make a wide sweep lest I wander

too nigh;

For all that is of or about mo I know,

There's nothing that's pure but tho beau­

tiful snow.

How strange it should be that the beau­

tiful snow

Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to

go!

How Btrangc it should be when the night

comes again,

If the snow and the ice strikes my des­

perate brain,

Fainting,

Freezing,

Dying alone,

Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a

moan,

To be heard in the streets of the crazy

town;

Gone mad in its joy of the snow coming

down;

To be and to die in my terrible woe,

With abed and shroud of the beautiful

snow.

THE ANSWER.

Brother and friend, tbo' I never may

', know

The soul that gave birth to the "Beauti­

ful Snow,"

Tho' the hand that first penned it be laid

in the dust,

The peu that firat traced it consumed

with the rust,

In the world of word pictures thero is

nothing I know

More deeply can move me than "Beautiful

. Snow."

And tho' it brings beauty and joy In Its

wake,

This innocent, noiseless, downy snow-

flake

Lovingly seeks this dark orb of our birth,

A n.l fnlrla W u,S in.nlla .mliml "Mntlmr

Mother

Berth."

While warmly and tenderly

i below.

mustered

61eep flowers end verdure 'neath "Beauti-

. rat enow. -

And what tho' it falls on our sin-stnekeu

. eerth.

To brighten our gloom, to heighten our

mirtn; ,

Softly tndsrentlr It ssemeth to tell,

Tho' tried and tempted, 700 hltered and

, ' fell,

Yet Jesus can wash you end clothe yon

: once more. .

In garments as white ss the "Beautiful

-. enow.-;

And what tho' it seems.too pare for our

' touch, - - . j - ;

florl irlveth it freelv to sinners. much

As to saints, and he sajeth, tbo wretched

' ' -.' andwild, -': '. 1 ' "

Wifh'deair. and tho' lost to both par-

, 1 t sn.l c hdd.

And wash, and be pure as the "Beautiful

Snow."

Then it awakens such thoughts in the

soul.

A longing and pleading that God would

make wnole,

The vilest poor wanderer and teach him

the way,

From fathomless darkness to infinite day,

In all the wide world, there is nothing 1

know.

More sweet than themiudion of "Beautiful

Snow."

And

tho' brothel' aiiil

friend tl

we

never be known,

'Till we tunc our harps

near the Givjt

White Throne.

Yet the sweet word pictdre, shall

live as

today

"A thing of beauty and n joy for aye."

And while sight and memory linger be­

low, I nimll ever thank God for the "Beautiful

Snow.