The April Snow-Storm - 1858.

Spread lightly, virgin shower, Your winding-sheet of snow; Winter has lost his power, But mock not at his woe. Fall not so cold and bleak, Nor blow the breath of scorn; Gently. Thy sire is weak; And thou, his latest-born. Frail type of life thou art: At first, pure as the snow We come—abide—depart; What more, th' Immortals know. Fall gently, virgin shower, Though wild the west wind raves; Watch through this midnight hour Above the new-made graves! -    -    - Spread gently, virgin shower, Your winding sheet of snow; My heart has lost its power, But mock not at its woe. Fall not so cold and bleak, Treat not her corse with scorn; Gently. My heart is weak; She, too, was April-born. Fall gently, virgin shower; The heart once strong and brave Hath lost its wonted power; 'Tis buried in her grave.