I never shall love the snow again br Since Maurice died: br With corniced drift it blocked the lane, br And sheeted in a desolate plain br The country side. br br The trees with silvery rime bedight br Their branches bare. br By day no sun appeared; by night br The hidden moon shed thievish light br In the misty air. br br We fed the birds that flew around br In flocks to be fed: br No shelter in holly or brake they found, br The speckled thrush on the frozen ground br Lay frozen and dead. br br br We skated on stream and pond; we cut br The crinching snow br To Doric temple or Arctic hut; br We laughed and sang at nightfall, shut br By the fireside glow. br br Yet grudged we our keen delights before br Maurice should come. br We said, 'In-door or out-of-door br We shall love life for a month or more, br When he is home.' br br They brought him home; 'twas two days late br For Christmas Day: br Wrapped in white, in solemn state, br A flower in his hand, all still and straight br Our Maurice lay. br br And two days ere the year outgave br We laid him low. br The best of us truly were not brave, br When we laid Maurice down in his grave br Under the snow.