I heard the snowflakes whisper in the still dark night,
And when I peeped at bedtime, all the roofs were white.
Although the pussy willows their mittened buds unfold,
Although the hazel catkins are waving tails of gold,
Although the buds are bursting on the chestnuts by the gate,
And spring is in the countryside—the snow came late.

I saw it in the twilight, and I looked for it at dawn,
But all I found were thrushes on the smooth green lawn,
All the roofs were twinkling and sparkling in the sun,
And myriad buds were waking and opening one by one,
And all that could remind me of snowflakes on the beds
Were clusterings of snowdrops, with whitely drooping heads.