The Snow Man
Wallace Steven
One must have a mind of
winter
To regard frost and the
boughs
Of the pine trees crusted
with snow;
And have been cold a long
time
To behold the junipers
shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the
distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not
to think
Of any misery in the sound of
the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the
land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same
bare place
For the listener, who listen
to the snow,
And, nothing himself beholds
Nothing that is not there and
the nothing that is.
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