A soft possible snow had descended And let the moon climb down from the sky. The world lay in whiteness without witness or end. Snow lay on the tree-limbs like ladder-rungs rounded And softened my cold need for why. Not a blank footstep, not a note of sound Intruded on the marvelous sight. All creatures, all creation slept like the ground, As though no other dark did our dark surround. A winter Eden and a winter night. And then I thought: It is as if some other than The snow had snowed down or in, Coldly immune to storm or reason. Each hour I held that thought held only harm. I searched the moon-snow transfigured farm. The fallen night I found, I found no ease in.