Winter
The now fell softly through the night
And in the morn, behold
A glorious picture crystal bright
To my vision now unforlds.
I gaze with wonder and delight
At such a scene as this.
The earth is robed in purest white,
And nothing seems amiss.
For every tree and every bough
With reverence bending low
Seems as in prayer for tender care,
And the peaceful scene below.
And on each bough and each fine twig
A thousand diamonds shine,
And cast their sparkling glory forth
A picture most sublime.
The fool, and he alone hath said
In his heart, “There is no God,”
But all around us men can see
His marvelous works of love.
— Emma Thornley —