Moveless Blizzard
A milder form of beauty is the frost.
A snowy landscape is dramatic, stark,
And harshly lovely, like bitterness lost
In sweetest white, all edged in green and stark
Irruptions in the fields or on the hills.
But frost makes greens pastel, or almost so.
It dresses greens in gauzy lace and frills
Which add cold warmth. A spiky sterling row
Of hedge stems suddenly are tailored by
The hoar to look more like a necklace on
A Snow Queen. All this happened in a sly
Night plotting to shock the innocent dawn.
This milder beauty in the night time crept
Along the girlish winter while it slept.