The moon, like a round device
On a shadowy shield of war,
Hangs white in a heaven of ice
With a solitary star.
The wind is sunk to a sigh,
And the waters are stern with frost;
And gray, in the eastern sky,
The last snow-cloud is lost.
White fields, that are winter-starved,
Black woods, that are winter-fraught,
Cold, harsh as a face death-carved
With the iron of some black thought.
Snow
Madison Julius Cawein
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Poem topics: cloud, death, heaven, lost, moon, sky, snow, star, war, wind, shield, frost, face, cold, ice, iron, thought, winter, white, black, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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