Outside the snowstorm spins, and
The world beneath a pall.
Snowed under are the paper-girl,
The papers and the stall.
Quite often our
Has led us to
That snow falls out of reticence,
In order to deceive.
Concealing
And trimming you in white,
How often he has brought you
Into the town at night!
While snowflakes blind and blanket
The distance more and more,
A tipsy shadow gropes his
And staggers to the door.
And then he enters hastily…Again, for all I know,
Someone has something sinful
Conceal in all this snow!
