[These verses were found, after death, in the desk of a girl of twenty‑two, highly educated, accomplished, and beautiful, but whose life was one frightful fall. She wrote them where she died‑in the Commercial Hospital, Cincinnati. In this sob of a broken heart is the song angels will never sing.‑ D. M. PANTON.].




Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,

Filling the sky and earth below,

Over the housetops, over the street,

Over the heads of people you meet;

Dancing – Flirting - Skimming along!

Beautiful snow! it can do no wrong;

Flying to kiss a fair lady’s cheek,

Clinging to lips in frolicsome freak;

Beautiful snow from heaven above,

Pure as an angel, gentle as love!




Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,

How the flakes gather and laugh as they go.

Whirling about in maddening fun;

Chasing – Laughing - Hurrying by,

It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye;

And the frisking dogs with a bark and a bound

Snap at the crystals as they eddy around;

The town is alive, and its heart is aglow,

To welcome the coming of beautiful snow!




How wild the crowd goes swaying along,

Hailing each other with humour and song;

How the gay sleighs like meteors flash by,

Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye;

Ringing – Swinging - Dashing they go,

Over the crest of the beautiful snow;

Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,

To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet

Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.




Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell,

Fell like the snow flakes from heaven to hell;

Fell to be trampled as filth in the street,

Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat;

Pleading – Cursing - Dreading to die,

Selling my soul to whoever would buy,

Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,

Hating the living and fearing the dead.

Merciful God! have I fallen so low!

And yet I was once like the beautiful snow.




Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,

With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow;

Once I was loved for my innocent grace -

Flatter’d and sought for the charms of my face!

Fathers – Mothers – Sisters - all,

God and myself I have lost by my fall;

The veriest wretch that goes shivering by

Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh;

For all that is on or above me, I know,

There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.




How strange should it be that this beautiful snow,

Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!

How strange it should be, when the night comes again;

If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain.

Fainting – Freezing – Dying - Alone,

Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan,

To be heard in the streets of the crazy town,

Gone mad in the joy of snow coming down;

To be and to die in my terrible woe,

With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.




Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,

Sinner, despair not!  Christ stoopeth low

To rescue the soul that is lost in sin,

And raise it to life and enjoyment again.

Groaning – Bleeding – Dying for thee,

The Crucified on the cursed tree!

His accents of mercy fall soft on thine ear.

Is there mercy for me?  Will He heed my weak prayer?

0 God! in the stream that for sinners did flow

Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.








Had all my years been sinless, could I know

What my Lord means by His ‘made white as snow’?

If all my days were tearless, could I say,

‘In His fair land He wipes all my tears away’?

If I were never weary, could I keep

Close to my heart – ‘He gives His loved ones sleep’?

Were no graves mine, might I not come to deem

The life eternal but a baseless dream?

My sorrow, yea, my tears, my weariness,

Even my graves shall be His way to bless:

I call them ills; yet that can surely be

Nothing but good that brings my Lord to me.