One I was fair as the beautiful snow.

With nn eye like Its crystals, a heart

ilka its glow;

Once I was loved for my innocent grace.

Flattered and sogght for the charm of

my face.

Father, mother, sisters, all,

God and myself I have lost by my fall.

The veriest wretch that goes shivering

by

Will tako a wide sweep lest I wander

too nich

For of all that is" on or about me I

know

There Is nothing that's pure, but the

beautiful, snow.

How strange it should be that tbis beau

tiful snow

Should fall on a sinner with nowhere

to go.

How strange it would be when the night

comes again

If tho snow and the ice struck my des

perate brain;

Fainting, freezing! dying alone.

Too wicked for prayer, too weak for my

moan

To be heard In the crash of the crazy

town

Gone mad in Its joy that the snow's com

ing down

To lie and to die in my terrible woe.

With a bed and a shroud of tho beauti

ful snowi

J. W. Watson.