Snow, snow the whole world over,
Sweeping it, end to end.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.
Like a crowd of summer midges
flying to the flame,
droves of snowflakes swarmed
against the window pane.
Snow-blasts moulded circles,
arrows on the glass.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.
Against the ceiling’s brightness
dark shadows falling,
crossed ankles, crossed wrists,
destinies crossing.
And two shoes dropped
with a thud to the floor,
and waxen tears dropped
from candle to dress.
And in the grey-white, snowy
darkness, all was lost.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.
A draught from the corner
blew: temptation’s heat
raised, like an angel,
a crucifix of wings.
Snow all through February,
and time and again
the candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.