The Snow That Never Drifts, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

The Snow That Never Drifts

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 -

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