The poem begins by treating snow as something pure and apart from us. It seems to say it belongs to another world, and the speaker's reaction is a kind of awe. "What child is this, / what wool, what milk?" borrows the language of a Christmas carol and of nativity images, as if the snow were soft and newborn.
Then the mood shifts. Looking back, the speakers see their own footprints "multiplying" behind them, a quiet picture of how much trace humans leave. The snow starts to feel like a judgment. It might be a white flag, but the poem asks who should be giving up: the snow or us? By the end, fresh snowfall covers the tracks, which could feel like forgiveness. Yet the last line is uneasy. Being "measured for immaculate shoes" suggests we're being fitted for a purity we can't live up to. The tone is hushed and beautiful, with guilt underneath.