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    ATHELSTANE.   Table of Contents     THE FUGITIVE.

Thompson, Priscilla Jane
Gleanings of Quiet Hours

- GLEANINGS OF QUIET HOURS.
- THE SNOW-FLAKES.


THE SNOW-FLAKES.


DOWN, DOWN, in millions, blending,
The snow-flakes gambol fast;
With eddies gay, descending,
Hurled by the winter's blast.
Down, down, in millions, blending,
The shower seems never ending,
While a white spread is extending,
From the countless flakes, amassed.

Down, down, in millions blending,
The snow flakes gambol fast;
Each little drop is wending,
To a resting place at last.
Down, down, in millions, blending,
Our God the flakes are sending,
And a lesson is impending,
Which blind man fails to grasp.
raster
3

Down, down, in millions, blending,
The snow-flakes gambol fast;
In mystic shapes, portending,
God's wisdom great and vast.
Down, down, in millions, blending,
While scholars are contending,
And the sage his wits is bending
Unexplained, they drift and pass.

    ATHELSTANE.   Table of Contents     THE FUGITIVE.