When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare. London Snow
Robert Bridges 1844–1930
*******************
Seemed fitting. Although the most we've had overnight is three inches. And I'm nowhere near London.
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare. London Snow
Robert Bridges 1844–1930
*******************
Seemed fitting. Although the most we've had overnight is three inches. And I'm nowhere near London.
5 comments:
I wonder if his description would be as true today with far greater traffic, both on foot and coach.
Apparently, for a couple of hours at least, yes it was last week. I spoke to our web designer, who works from a home office in London, and he said things were eerily quiet.
Hi Anne - Robert Bridges describes it perfectly doesn't he .. that lazy languid way those soft flakes flutter down upon us - then silence with that bright sharp white ..
Love the poem - thanks for sharing with us ... cheers Hilary
A nice description, especially the brightness of the morning. That is one thing I always notice on a snowy morning. As for the silence, you know something is up if you live near a motorway, those are never silent unless they are blocked.
Lovely! There's something almost magical about new fallen snow, isn't there?!
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