Down out of heaven, 
Frost-kissed 
And wind driven, 
Flake upon flake, 
Over forest and lake, 
Cometh the snow. 

Folding the forest, 
Folding the farms, 
In a mantle of white; 
And the river?s great arms, 
Kissed by the chill night 
From clamor to rest, 
Lie all white and shrouded 
Upon the world?s breast. 

Falling so slowly 
Down from above, 
So white, hushed, and holy, 
Folding the city 
Like the great pity 
Of God in His love; 20 
Sent down out of heaven 
On its sorrow and crime, 
Blotting them, folding them 
Under its rime. 

Fluttering, rustling, 
Soft as a breath, 
The whisper of leaves, 
The low pinions of death, 
Or the voice of the dawning, 
When day has its birth, 
Is the music of silence 
It makes to the earth. 

Thus down out of heaven, 
Frost-kissed 
And wind driven, 
Flake upon flake, 
Over forest and lake, 
Cometh the snow.