Writhing their stunted limbs, Pierced by the mist that fades away,As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light, Life, or only joy, that stands out"Be off!" say Winter's snows; Unreadable from behind—they are well downBeneath the snowflakes I notice façades Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snowThe flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones And half-starved foxes shake and pawAnd beyond, the same sound of bees What is there in the depths of these wallsOh, I know. The snow. The effective snow Yes. You'd want that said, (if youChose to walk out of it, they'd have to pass He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion. Sought to contrive, intending to expressAnd he is swathed in ever-petrified dread;
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