The First Snowfall by James Russell Lowell

When my mother was just 20 yrs. old, in 1940, she lost her first  born child- her only son. Although, she continued on to have, and  love 4 (in her eyes, at least) precious daughters, she never forgot  her first child. I can remember her reading this poem every  Winter when the snow would fall- and I knew she was thinking of him. The First Snowfall ~James Russell Lowell The snow had begun in the gloaming,  And busily all the night  Had been heaping field and highway  With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock  Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree  Was ridged inch deep with pearl. From sheds new-roofed with Carrara Came Chanticleer's muffled crow, The stiff rails softened to swan's-down, And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky,  And the sudden flurries of snowbirds, Like brown leaves whirling by. I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn Where a little headstone stood;  How the flakes were folding it gently,  As did robins the babes in the wood. Up spoke our own little Mabel,  Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?"  And I told of the good All-Father  Who cares for us here below. Again I looked at the snow-fall,  And thought of the leaden sky  That arched o'er our first great sorrow,  When that mound was heaped so high. I remembered the gradual patience  That fell from that cloud like snow,  Flake by flake, healing and hiding  The scar that renewed our woe. And again to the child I whispered,  "The snow that husheth all,  Darling, the merciful Father  Alone can make it fall!" Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her:  And she, kissing back, could not know  That my kiss was given to her sister,  Folded close under deepening snow.  — The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell (1882) All photographs were taken by me either last night (Jan. 17) or this  morning (Jan. 18)