Adelaide Crapsey’s short poem catches the quiet instant before a snowfall begins. The speaker senses a shift in the air—a cold wind streaming down from hills that are losing their light—and breathes an almost whispered reminder to look up and smell what’s coming. There is a gentle urgency in that repeated instruction, as though the moment might slip past if you don’t pause. The mood is hushed and expectant, a shiver of winter’s arrival mixed with wonder. “Bleakening hills” suggests both the fading daylight and the bare, darkening landscape, while calling the wind the “first breath” of wintry air makes the weather feel alive, even intimate. Then the poem turns from sight to scent: snow has a crisp, clean smell, and the speaker invites us to catch it. Everything in these few lines hangs on that sensory alertness—a brief, suspended pause before the world softens under white.
Snow — Summary
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and scent The snow!