Snow...

...by Walter de la Mare

No breath of wind,
No gleam of sun -
Still the white snow
Whirls softly down
Twig and bough
And blade and thorn
All in an icy
Quiet, forlorn.
Whispering, rustling,
Through the air
On sill and stone,
Roof - everywhere,
It heaps its powdery
Crystal flakes,
Of every tree
A mountain makes;
'Till pale and faint
At shut of day
Stoops from thevWest
One wint'ry ray,
And, feathered in fire
Where ghosts the moon,
A robin shrilly
His lonely tune.

I've just taken my dogs out for a walk in the snow, and it brought this poem to mind.