Explore "Snow" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The moon, like a round device / On a shadowy shield of war, / Hangs white in a heaven of ice / With a solitary star.
The wind is sunk to a sigh, / And the waters are stern with frost; / And gray, in the eastern sky, / The last snow-cloud is lost.
White fields, that are winter-starved, / Black woods, that are winter-fraught, / Cold, harsh as a face death-carved / With the iron of some black thought.