Explore "Thea. a Phantasy over the Samovar" by Hermann Sudermann on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was many, many years ago on a late evening near Epiphany.
Without whirled the snow. The flakes came fluttering to the windows / like endless swarms of moths. Silently they touched the panes and then / glided straight down to earth as though they had broken their wings in / the impact.