The snow is deep on the ground.   

Always the light falls

 
 
Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.



This is a good world.

The war has failed.

God shall not forget us.

Who made the snow waits where love is.



Only a few go mad.

The sky moves in its whiteness

Like the withered hand of an old king.   

God shall not forget us.

Who made the sky knows of our love.



The snow is beautiful on the ground.   

And always the lights of heaven glow   

Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.
 
By Kenneth Patchen.