The Marietta journal. [volume] (Marietta, Ga.) 1866-1909, 1871-12-15
beautiful Snow.

oCdh1AAh@ ONS"'
I'm the early part of the American war, one
dark Saturday morning in the dead OF winter
there died at the Commercial Hospital, Cincin-
natl. a Young woman, over whose head only two
and twenty summers had passed. She had
once been possessed of IN enyiable share OF
beauty, had been, us she herself said, Halter
ed and sought for the charms OF her face" but
alas upon her fair bro :, (whers a tender,
loving mothers kiss had oft been pressed, }
had long been written that terrible word
FALLEN Once the pride of respectable pa
rentage, her first wrong step was the small
beginning of the Same old story over again"
which has been the only life-history of thou
sands Highly educated and accomplished in
manners, she might have been leading star
of the most brilliant and refined society,"
"Might have BEEN" did we say p
"Of all the words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these-it might hare Jeenw
But the evil hour that proved her ruin was out
the door from childhood and having spent a
young life in shame, the poor frendless one
died the melancholy death of a broken hearted
outcast
Among her personal effects was found, in
manuscript, the "Beautifu Snow" which was
Immediately carried to Enos B. Reed, a gentle
man Of culture and literary taste, who was at
that time editor of the National Union In the
columns of that paper, on the morning follow
ing the girls death. The poem appeared in print
for the first time When the paper containing
the poem came sut on Sunday morning, the
body of the poor unfortunate woman had not
yet received burial. The attention of Thomas
Buchanan Read one Of the best American
poets, was soon directed to the newly publish
ed lines, who was SO taken with their stirring
pathos, that he Immediately followed the corpse
to its final resting.
Such are the plain facts concerning her
whose Beautiful Snow" will long be regard
ed as one of the highest gems of American lit
erature.
Oh the snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and earth below,
Over the houseiops, over the street,
over the Hedus VI tHt people 5ou meet
Dancing Flirting-Skimming along
Beautiful snow il can do no wrong:
Flying to kiss fair lady's cheek,
Clinging TO lips in frolicksome freak;
Beautiful snow from heaven above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love!
Oh the snow, the beautiful snow.
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go,
Whirling about in maddening fan;
Chasing aughing-Hurrying by.
1t lights on theface, and it sparkes the eye
And the dogs, with bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals as they eddy around
The town is alive and its heart is aglow
To welcome the coming of the beautiful snow
How wild the crowd goes swaying along
Hailing each other with humor and song
How the gay seighs like meteors fash by,
Bright for moment, then lost to the eye;
Ringing winging-Dashing they go
Over the crust of the beautiful snow:
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing
by,
To be tramplel and tracked by thousands of
feet
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible
street
Once was pure as the snow, but fell
i
Fell to be trampled as filth on the street,
Fell to be scofed, to be spit ON and beat;
Pleading-C misunderstanding to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy
Dealing in shame for morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead,
Merciful God, have fallen SO low
And yet | was once like the beautiful snow.
Once was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like crystal, heart like its glow
Once l was loved for my innocent grace
Flattered and sought for the charms of my
face.
Father-Mother-Ss all
God aud myself have lost by my fall
The veriest wretch that goes shiverng by
viii make widesweep lest wander too nigh,
For all that is on or above me know,
There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.
How strange ii should be that this beautiful
snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go
How strange it should be when the night comes
again,
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate
brain,
Fainting-Freezing- alone
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for moan
To be heard in the streets Of the brazen town
NoHe Hldu III 'Ie JOY Vi 'ile slioN CothllS uohi,
To be and to die in my terrible woe,
With bed and shroud of beautiful snow.
Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner despair not Christ stoopeth low
TO rescue the soul that is lost in SIM
And raise it to life and enjoyment again.
-BIeeding-Dying for thee,
The cruciied hung on the accursed tree
His accents Of mercy fall soft on thine ear,
as there mercy tor me? viii He heed my
weak prayer?'
0 God in the stream that tor sinners did Aow
Wash me- and shall be whittier than SHOWS :.