Each flake of falling snow, That rests upon my palm below, Is a sweet and tender bliss! Why say that you lack the prowess, To try a better feeling, More docile, more appealing? It is as cold as winter's ice, Yet it makes your face look nice, If you touch it full of glee! Just say it is a courtesy In this pure and silver season, Which wears a necklace without reason And fine pond lilies in its hair, You’d kneel if you touch them there! Come on, do try, I mean it now! Just step in where I stand, somehow, And you shall see the winter’s sight As it descends with fading light. I’ll pour a sweet wine, soft and slow, To prove I love and miss you so, Like noonday sun with a bright glare Upon a single, golden prayer. The flakes are standing, neat and vast, Upon the haystack, holding fast, If you doubt me, come and see, And you will gain youth’s energy.
