To a Wreath of Snow

O transient voyager of heaven!

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ O silent sign of winter skies!

What adverse wind thy sail has driven

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ To dungeons where a prisoner lies?

Methinks the hands that shut the sun

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠So sternly from this morning's brow

Might still their rebel task have done

⁠⁠ ⁠ ⁠ And checked a thing so frail as thou.

They would have done it had they known

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠The talisman that dwelt in thee,

For all the suns that ever shone

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠Have never been so kind to me!

For many a week, and many a day

⁠⁠ ⁠ ⁠ My heart was weighed with sinking gloom

When morning rose in mourning grey

⁠⁠ ⁠ ⁠ And faintly lit my prison room

But angel like, when I awoke,

⁠⁠ ⁠ ⁠ Thy silvery form, so soft and fair

Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke

⁠⁠ ⁠ ⁠ Of cloudy skies and mountains bare;

The dearest to a mountaineer

⁠⁠ ⁠ ⁠ Who, all life long has loved the snow

That crowned his native summits drear,

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠Better, than greenest plains below.

And voiceless, soulless, messenger

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠Thy presence waked a thrilling tone

That comforts me while thou art here

⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠And will sustain when thou art gone