Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end. The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.   That is the first stanza of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s two-stanza “The Snow-Storm.” […]

Categories: William Eaton, ZiR • Tags: art, Emerson, poetry, snow, weather