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Oh, the white falling snow,
So still and so gentle,
Upon all you bestow
Sweet Purity's mantle!


The trees you make white,
You slight not a twig.
Here is a stem that looks quite
Like white jessamine sprig.


The hills are so bright
In their glitt'ring mantle;
Oh, so pure and so white!
Their slope is gentle.


The little snowbirds
Dart along together
As they chatter love-words.
They love the snow weather.


The merry bells' ring
Startles memories dear.
Oh, their sweet ting-a-ling
Sounds now far, and now near.


The merry schoolboy
Prints his foot in the snow,
As he whistles with joy
In light, musical flow.


Oh, may he be pure
As the beautiful snow,
And on life's page make sure
Mark for truth, deep and low!