The Snow That Never Drifts Poem by Emily Dickinson

The Snow that never drifts -
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now -

So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was February's Foot
Experience would swear -

Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature's Alibit -

Were every storm so spice
The Value could not be -
We buy with contrast - Pang is good
As near as memory -