The
Weaver of Snow
by
William Sharp
In
Polar noons when the moonshine glimmers,
And
the frost fans whirl,
And
whiter than moonlight the ice-flowers grow,
And
the lunar rainbow quivers and shimmers,
And
the Silent Laughers dance to and fro,
A
stooping girl
As
rare as pearl
Gathers
the frost flowers where they blow:
And
the fleet-footed fairies smile, for they know
The
Weaver of Snow.
And
she climbs at last to a berg set free,
That
drifteth slow:
And
she sails to the edge of the world we see;
And
waits till the wings of the north wind lean
Like
an eagle's wings o'er a lochan of green,
And
the pale stars glow
On
berg and floe........
Then
down on our world with a wild laugh of glee
She
empties her lap full of shimmer and sheen.
And
that is the way in a dream I have seen
The
Weaver of Snow.
WILLIAM SHARP
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