What The Snow-Flakes Did
OVER the great broad prairie
The snow-flakes, soft and light,
Began in early morning
To carpet the ground with white.
Softly they flutter downward,
And some of them paused to rest
On two little threads of iron,
That tie the East to the West.
But one little snow-flake whispered,
"Alas! How small am I!
On this cold, hard bed of iron
What can I do but die?"
Her sister snow-flake answered,
"Yes, I know that we are small,
But that needn't worry you, sister,
We've nothing to do but fall!"
Then every listening snow-flake
Went steadily on and on
Falling and falling and falling,
Till the wintry day was gone
And then, why the rails were hidden,
And everywhere the eye
Saw only the spotless snow-drifts
Under the cold gray sky.
In vain the panting engine
With snort and scream, essayed
To pass, the tiny snow-flakes
A giant barrier made
Came hurrying men and engines,
While frantic whistle blew,
Till at last eight "iron horses"
The train in safety drew
Now if every little snow-flake
Had paused that stormy day,
To muse and sigh despondent
To melt upon its way
They never could have wrought the chain
That link by link they threw
Around that monster engine,
And held it captive too.
This story of the snow-flakes
Is more than idle verse
It points you to a moral
Which I need scarce rehearse:
That any thought, word, action,
However light and small,
May aid you in your heavenward way,
Or bind you here in thrall.
-------------------------------------------
"Will the winter never be over ?
Will the dark days never go?
Must the buttercup and the clover
Always remain under the snow? "
But the poet whispers a word of
encouragement for us just now, for
"The weariest month of the year, friend,
Is the shortest and nearest spring."