mHUTIFTL SKOW.

Ohl the .now! th lantifnJ guor!

Fillifcrj tLe iy a.nl the Mrtt ts Ulotr,

Over the hourtrs. over the street,

! Over the lu&U cf the people yon zueet.

FlitUnjr.

' tSkirninir lon"

iV.iTjtiful fnow! it ran do nothing urong.

1 lying to kis th fair laly a rhek.

Clinging to lips in a frolicsome frt-ak;

Heantifnl snow from the heavens above,

Pnre as an angel, gentle as love!

Oh! the snow! the beantiful snow !

How the tiakes gatber, and ianh &s they go

Whirling nbont ia their mid lening fan;

It phijH in its glee with every one.

Lha-smg, 1

Laughing,

llnrrvinrz bv.

, It lights on. the face and sparkles the eye;

j And playing dogs, with abark and a bound,

Knap at the crystals that eddy aronnd.

j.Tl:e town is aiive, and its heart in a glow

j ib welcome the coming of beautiful subw.

1 How wildly the crowd goes swaying along,

j Hailing each other with humor and song;

How the rrnv sleds like iueteors thss bv.

i'iiKIU lor a laouieni, men losi tome eve;

ilinging, . .

Swinging.

Uashincr. tLev co.

viver tne crest of the beautiful snow

SncUv so pure when it fell from the sky,

iAs to make one regret to see it lie

To bo trampled and tracked by thousands

! J of feet, ;' "

Till it blends with the filth of the hoirible

J : street, j

Once I was pure as the snow but I fell,

Tell like a snow flake from Heaven to hed,

Fell to be trampled on as filth in the street.

reu to ue sconea at. snit on and lpjit-

Pleading,

Cnrsing,

Dreading to die!

celling my soul to whoever would buv:

Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread!

Hating the bring and shunning the dead,

Merciful God! have I fallen so low?

And yet was once like the beautiful snow.

Once I was fair as the beantif til snow,

With -an eye like crystal, a heart like its

I glow;

Once I was loved for my innocent grace,

Flattered and sought for the charms of mv

face. !

Father,

Mother,

Sister all-

God and myself have I lost by mv fall!

The vilest wretch that goes shivering by

Wil make a wide sweep lest I wander too

I m'gh; l

For la.ll that is on or above me, I know­

There 's nothing so pure as the beautiful

' snow.

L i

Low strange it should be that this beauti­

I ful snow

Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go;

IIow strange it should be when night comes

i again

If the snow and the ice struck my desolate

brain!

Fainting,

Freezing, i

Dyinc alone.

Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan

To be heard on the streets of a crazy town,

Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming

I down,

To he and to die in my terrible woe,

With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful

snow.