Two short stanzas, and a surprising amount of feeling packed into them. The speaker describes snow as "the first new world" we howl at, which suggests a kind of wonder: snow transforms the familiar landscape so completely that it seems like a different place altogether. The word "howl" is interesting here. It makes us sound like animals, wild and unguarded, greeting something strange and overwhelming. It also echoes the title, "Howling wilderness," which turns an ordinary snowfall into something untamed.
The second stanza shifts the mood. Lying down in the snow, "at first without a sound," the speaker goes quiet. The howling gives way to stillness, as if the body has to settle into this new world before it can respond. "At first" hints that sound will come later, so the silence feels like a held breath. The overall mood is hushed, playful and a little primal: joy and awe mixed with the simple pleasure of falling backward into something cold and soft.