It's snowing, it's returning to a townDreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snowWhere, as I discover as I go throughAnd piled up at the base of the columnsSphinx of questioning substance, or a sort
And so I gaze avidlyHow can they get the point of how a worldAppear to lift up from the lake;watching calisthenics from the grandstands.Only a whiter absence to my mind,Glimmering of light:By what it seems to have moved toward. In anyThis drizzling three-day January thaw,