Clouds under heaven fly
Winds over meadow hie
Through kept field and forest wild
Rambles my motherless child.
Leaves along the alley fly
Over the valley ravens cry
Higher than the mountain lies
The land of the heart's desire.
Up slides the blind and out of remotest heaven
from a perlmutter sky
falls the pure, the Brownian, upward drifting snow
casually but surely, in high-blown whorls;
on the rail has settled a bluish inch.
'It's cold', croaks the bird, on yellow, thin legs,
so I rise. Snow fills last years rifts and sifts
on sticks and galls and nodes of last years'