Snowflakes downfloating from the void Upon my face Spilth of the silent alchemy employed In deeps of space Where viewless everlasting fingers ply The power whose secret is the mystery That doth my world encase Power that with equal ease outshakes Yon architrave Of massy stars in heaven and these frail flakes Earth's floor that pave Swings the flamed orbs with infinite time for dower And strews these velvet jewels not an hour Of sunshine that will brave Yet of whose clustered crystals none But speaks the act Of the hand that steers each ceaseless-wheeling sun And to whose tact Fire-wreath and spangled ice alike respond Thoughts from the void frozen to flower and frond Divinely all compact Snowflakes, of pureness unalloyed That in dark space Are built, and spilt from out the teeming void With prodigal grace Air-quarried temples though you fall scarce-felt And all your delicate architecture melt To tears upon my face I too am such encrystalled breath In the void planned And bodied forth to surge of life and death And as I stand Beneath this sacramental spilth of snow Crumbling, you whisper "Fear thou not to go" Back to the viewless hand Thence to be moulded forth again Through time and space Till thy imperishable self attain Such strength and grace Through endless infinite refinement passed By the eternal Alchemist that at last Thou see him face to face