Down out of heaven, Frost-kissed And wind driven, Flake upon flake, Over forest and lake, Cometh the snow. Folding the forest, Folding the farms, In a mantle of white; And the river?s great arms, Kissed by the chill night From clamor to rest, Lie all white and shrouded Upon the world?s breast. Falling so slowly Down from above, So white, hushed, and holy, Folding the city Like the great pity Of God in His love; 20 Sent down out of heaven On its sorrow and crime, Blotting them, folding them Under its rime. Fluttering, rustling, Soft as a breath, The whisper of leaves, The low pinions of death, Or the voice of the dawning, When day has its birth, Is the music of silence It makes to the earth. Thus down out of heaven, Frost-kissed And wind driven, Flake upon flake, Over forest and lake, Cometh the snow.