following it one of the most beautiful things In

our language. It ia published here in full for the first

time In Wilmington, though it appeared in Washington

in the fall of 1861.

Oh 1 the mow, the beautiful mow,

Filling the aky and earth below;

Over the housetops, over the street,

Over the heads of the people you meet. -Dancing,

Flirtinjr,

Skimming along;

Beautiful snow 1 it can do no wrong.

Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek, -Clinzin?

to lips in a frolicsome freak,

Beautiful snow from the Heaven above,

Pure as an angel,, gentle ns love I

Oh I the snow, the beautiful snow,

How the flakes gather and laugh as they go

Whirling about in the maddening fan,

It plays in its glee with every one.

Chasing,

Laughing,

Hurrying by;

It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye I

And even the dog, with a bark and a bound,

Snap at t he crystals that eddy around .

The town is alive, and its heart in a slow,

To welcome the coming of beautifuignow.

How wild the crowd goes swaying along, v "

nailing each other with humor or song I

How the gay sledges like meteors, flash by,

Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye;

Kinginsr,

Swinging,

Dashing they go,

Over the crust of the beautiful snow;

To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feet,

Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.

Once I was pure as the snow but I fell 1

Fell ltke the snow flakes from heaven to hell:

Fell to be trampled aa filth of the street;

, Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat:

Pleading,

Cursing,

Dreading to die,

Selling my soul to whoever would buy,

Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,

naiung ine living ana rearing the dead;

Merciful Ood! have I fallen so low?

And yet 1 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;

Once I was loved for my innocent glow

Flattered and sought for the charms of my facel

Father,

Mother,

Sisters, all.

God, and myself, I have lost by my fall;

The veriest wretch that goes shivering by,

Will take a wide sweep, Test I wander too nigh,

For all that is on or above me, I know,

There is nothing that's pure as the beautiful snow.

How strange it ehould be that this beautiful snow

Should fall on a sinner with no where to goi

How strange it should be when the night comes

gin , .

If the snow and the ice struck my desporato brain,

Fainting,

Freezing,

Dying alone,

Too wicked for a prayer, too weak for a moan,

To be heard in the streets of the crazy town,

Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down,

To be and to die in my terrible wo,

With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.

STATE NE