Then, with eyes that saw not . . .

Sometimes, I think, it is good to be reminded that as all encompassing as a personal loss is, there are those who travel their own path of loss.  So, be as kind as humanly possible, but be as fierce as necessary to protect those people and beliefs you cherish.  

Heather, sweet little one, you are in my thoughts.

The First Snowfall

By James Russell Lowell

The snow had begun in the gloaming,

   And busily all the night

Had been heaping field and highway

   With a silence deep and white.

 

Every pine and fir and hemlock

   Wore ermine too dear for an earl,

And the poorest twig on the elm-tree

   Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

 

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara

   Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,

The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,

   And still fluttered down the snow.

 

I stood and watched by the window

   The noiseless work of the sky,

And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,

   Like brown leaves whirling by.

 

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn

   Where a little headstone stood;

How the flakes were folding it gently,

   As did robins the babes in the wood.

 

Up spoke our own little Mabel,

   Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?"

And I told of the good All-father

   Who cares for us here below.

 

Again I looked at the snow-fall,

   And thought of the leaden sky

That arched o'er our first great sorrow,

   When that mound was heaped so high.

 

I remembered the gradual patience

   That fell from that cloud-like snow,

Flake by flake, healing and hiding

   The scar of our deep-plunged woe.

 

And again to the child I whispered,

   "The snow that husheth all,

Darling, the merciful Father

   Alone can make it fall!"

 

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;

   And she, kissing back, could not know

That my kiss was given to her sister,

   Folded close under deepening snow.