Snowfall After Dark

I could not tell by sound of wind Nor sighing of a single flake Against the pane that all the world Lay pale with snow in darkness’ wake,

And sad am I that I was left Outside this secret of the night That turned a thousand blackened boughs Into a flowering of white.

Since man has little time to learn Through springtime’s doubtful weather How tireless fingers of the sun Put apple blooms together,

Had but the wind’s voice prompted me, Or hint of snowflake drifted through, I could have witnessed in an hour What April takes a month to do.