John Whittaker Watson - Beautiful Snow

Beautiful Snow

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by John Whittaker Watson

Oh! The snow, the beautiful snow,
            Filling the sky and the earth below,
            Over the housetops, over the street,
            Over the heads of people you meet.
            Dancing,
                    Flirting,
                                  Skimming along,

            Beautiful snow! It can do no wrong;
            Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
            Clinging to lips in frolicksome freak;
            Beautiful snow from heaven above,
            Pure as an angel, gentle as love!

Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go
Whirling about in maddening fun:
Chasing,
        Laughing,
                Hurrying by.

It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye;
And the dogs with a bark and a bound
Snap at the crystals as they eddy around;
The town is alive, and its heart is aglow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.

How wild the crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song;
How the gay sleighs like meteors flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye:
Ringing,
        Swinging,
                    Dashing they go,

Over the crest of the beautiful snow;
Snow so pure as it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in time by the crowd rushing by -
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.

Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell,
Fell like the snow flakes from heaven to hell;
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street,
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat;
Pleading,
    Cursing,
                    Dreading to die,

Selling my soul to whoever would buy;
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead.
Merciful God!  I have fallen so low!
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow..

Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow;
Once I was loved for my innocent grace--
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face!
Father,
    Mother,
            Sisters--all,

God and myself I have lost by my fall:
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by,
Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too night,
For all that is on or above me I know,
There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.

How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!
How strange it should be when the night comes again
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain!
Fainting,
        Freezing,
                    Dying alone,

Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan
To be heard in the streets of the crazy town,
Gone mad in the joy of snow coming down:
To be and to die in my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.

John Whittaker Watson

Beautiful Snow and Other Poems,

Peterson & Brothers: Philadelphia, 1869

*Although the authentic author of this poem is John Whittaker Watson, it was at first mistakenly posted here as one of Joseph Warren Watson's poems. This popular poem has been spuriously attributed to several sources, including a deceased prostitute, among whose belongings a handwritten copy was discovered. Her story was later made into an evangelistic tract with the additions of two concluding stanzas that characteristically do not match the original poet's style or theme. These have been eliminated from this posting to restore the original wording published in 1869 in Beautiful Snow and Other Poems by John Whittaker Watson.

Analysis (ai): This poem employs vivid imagery and rhythmic language to explore themes of beauty, innocence, and the complexities of human existence. The poem begins with a celebration of snow's beauty and purity and transitions to a darker reflection on the protagonist's own fallen state and the contrast between their past innocence and current despair. The poem reflects the Victorian era's preoccupation with morality and the consequences of sin, as well as the romantic era's emphasis on nature's beauty. The poem's use of concrete imagery and conversational tone contrasts with other works from the same period that were more abstract and elevated.