O, the mow, th* beautiful mow. Filling

the sky and the earth below ; Oyer the

housetop*, orer the street, Orer the

heads of the people yon meet ; Dancinpr,

Fllrtinff, Skimming along', Beautiful

snow ! it can do nothing wrong, Flyinsr

to kiss a fair lady's cheek : Clinging

to lips in a frolicsome freak ;

Beautiful enow from tho heavens above,

Pure as an angel and tickle as love ! 8

! tho mow, the beautiful snow ! 1 How

tho flakes gather and laugh a« they go ;

Whirling about in its maddening fun, It

plays in its glee with ovory one.

Chasing, Laughing, Hurrying by, It

lights up the face, and it sparkles the

sye ; And even tbe dogs, with u bark and

a bound, Snap at tho crystal that eddy

round ; The town is alive, and its heart

in a glow, To welcome the ooming of the

beautiful snow. How the wild crowd goes

swaying along, Hailing each other with

humor and song ! How tbe gay sledges

liko meteors flash by, -Bright for tno

moment, then lost to the eye ; Einging,

. Swinging, -Dashing they go Over tho

crust of the beautiful snow ; Snow so

pure when it falls from the sky, To be

trampled in mud by tho orowd rushing by

; j To be trampled and tracked by the

thousands of feet, Till it blends with

tho horrible tilth of the streot. Once I

was pure as tho snow— but I fellFoil,

liko the snow-flakos, from Heaven to

HellFell, to bo trampled, like filth in

tho street — Fell, to bo scoffed, to he

spit on and beat ; Pleading, ? Cursing,

Dreading to die, Belling my soul to

whoever would buy. Dealing in shame for

a morsel of bread, ' ' Hating tho

living, and fearing tho dead. Merciful

God ! have I fallen so low ? Aad yet I

was once like this beautiful snow 1

Vneel was fair as the beautiful snow,

With an eye like its crystals, a lieait

like its glow ; Once I was loved for my

innocent graeo— Flattered and sought for

tho charms of my faoe. Father, Mother,

SiBter. and all. God, and mysolf, I havo

lost by my fall ; The veriest wretch

that goes shivering by ?Will toko a wldo

sweop lest I wander too nigh ; For of

all that is on or about mo, I know There

is nothing that's pure but tho beautiful

snow. How strange it should bo that this

beautiful snow Bhould fall on a sinner

with nuwhero to go ; If the snow nnd tho

ico struck loy desperate brain, How

strange il would be whon the night comei

ajiun. Fainting, Freezing, Dying alona !

Too wicked for r rayor, too weak for my

moan To be heard in the crash of the

crazr town, . . . Gone mad in their Joy

at the snow's coming down ; To lie and

to die in my ter iblc woo, With a bed

and a shroud of the beautiful snow I