Scene #16

By the mist clouds of fog that creep over the sun,
By the twinkles of stars that ethereally run,
By the surge of the welkin that roars from the pole,
And the deep hollow murmurs of winter that roll,
I've the moonshine to guide me, the frost to restrain,
As I journey through space, to reach heaven again.

I'm the Spirit of snow, and my compass is wide;
I can fall in the storm, in the wind I can ride;
I am white, I am pure, I am tender, I'm fair,
I was born in the seas, to the seas I repair;
By frost I am harden'd, by wet I'm destroy'd,
And, united with liquid, to Ocean decoy'd.

I have sisters of ether, have brothers of rime,
And my friendships are formed in the northerly clime.
My foes are the elements jarring with strife;
Air lets me pass on to my earth-bosomed wife;
Fire covets and melts me; but water's so kind,
That, when lost to the three, to the fourth I'm resign'd.

I have cousins of icicles, children of sleet;
Some battle with hail, others vanquish in heat;
I'm the Spirit of snow. By the will of the blast,
In the shallows and depths I am drifted at last;
And a glance of the sun, while I brighten in tears,
Dissolves my pretensions to reign in the spheres.

J. R. Prior, "The Spirit of Snow".