The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1881-12-08
BEA UTTFUL SNOW.
AN AMERICAN POEM,
BY LADY.

BY A LADY.
In the early part of the war, one
! dark Saturday morning in the dead
/ of winter, there died at the CONNER.
/ cial Hospital, Cincinnati, a young
woman over whose head only two
| and twenty summers had passed. She
had once been posses 5ed of an enviable
/ share of beauty had been, as she
herself said, "flattered and sought fol
the charms of her face :" but, alas
| Upon her fair brow had long been
written the terrible word = fallen
Once the pride of respectable
parentage, her first wrong step was
the small beginning of the same old
story over again" which has been the
only life history of thousands. High
I ly educated and accomplished in man
ners, she might have shown in the
best society. But the evil hour that
proved her ruin was but tie door
from childhood; and having spent a
young life in disgrace and shame, the
poor triendless one died the me.an-
choly death of broken hearted out
cast.
Among her personal effects was
found, in manuscript, the beautiful
Snow" which was Immediately car
ried to a gentleman of culture and lit
erary taste, who was at that time ed
itor of the National Union. In the
columns Of that paper, on the morning
following the girls death, the poem
appeared in print for the first time.
When the paper cOntainin g the poem
came out on Sunday morning, the
body of the victim had not we: re-
ceived burial. The attention Of one of
the first American poets was soon di-
rected to the newly published lines,
who was so taken with their. stirring
pathOs, that he imm ediateIy followed
the corpse to its final resting place.
Such are the plain facts concerning
her whose beautiful Snow" will long
be regarded as one of the brightest
gems in American literature.
OF the snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and the earth below,
Over the hOusetOps, over tue street,
Over the heads of the people you meet;
Dancing-h -hirting-skimming along,
Beautiful snow; it can do 40 wrong.
Flying to kiss Il fair lady'S cheek,
Ciinging to lips in frOiicsOTle freak;
Beautiful snow from heaven above,
Pure as ansangel, gentle as love!
o. the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go,
Whirling about in maddening fun,
1t slays in its glee with every one;
ChaSing-laughing- by,
1t lights on the face and it sparkles the eye;
And the dogs with bark and bound
Snap at the crystals as they eddy round;
The town is alive, and its heart in a glow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snOwl
How wild the crowd goes swayinS along,
How the gay sleighs like meteOrs flash by,
Bright for moment. then lost TO the eye;
-swingng-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 pass
To be trampied and tracked by thousands
TIL it 5lends with the filth in the horrible
street.
Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell,
Fell like the snOw-but from heaven to hell +;
Fell 20 be trampled az filth of the street,
Fell to be scOffed, to be spit on and beat;
Pleading misunderstanding to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy;
Dealing in shame for morsel OF bread;
Hating the living and fearing the dead;
Mercirul God, have l fallen so lOwi
And yet 1 was once like the beautiful snow.
Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With eye like a crystal heart like its
Once / was loved for my innocent grace
FIattered and sought for the charms of
my face!
Father-mother-
God and myself, 1 have lost by my fall;
The Yeriest wretch that goes shiveTing by,
viii make wide sweep lest 1 wander too
For all That is on or about me I know,
There is nothing as pure as the beautiful
snow.
How strange it would be that this beautiful
snow,
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to 20!
How strange it should be when the light
comes again,
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate
brain.
If fainting-freezing- dying alone,
Too wicked for 81 prayer, too weak for aJaOan
To be heard iii the streets of the crazy town,
(GOne mad in the joy of snow coming down },
| should lie down and die in my terrible woe,
With bed and shroud of the beautiful
snow.
Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not! Christ stoOpeth low
To rescue the soul that is lost in sin,
And raise 1t 10 life and enjoyment again.
GrOaning- g-bleedins-dying for thee,
The Crucfied hung on the cursed tree!
His accents of pity fall soft on thine ear,
lis there mercy for mey Will He heed my
weak prayer?
God! in the stream that for sinners did
flow,
Wash me, and shall be whittier than snow -