The Snow that never drifts

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

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 —