  ut of the sky they come, Wandering down the air, Some to the roofs, and some Whiten the branches bare; Some in the empty nest, Some on the ground below, Until the world is dressed All in a gown of snow; Dressed in a fleecy gown Out of the snowflakes spun; Wearing a golden crown, Over her head the sun. Out of the sky again Ghosts of the flowers that died Visit the earth, and then Under the white drifts hide. —Frank Dempster Sherman. |
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