The world has gone to silver sleep, Beneath a watch the hemlocks keep. The clock strikes twelve, a hollow sound, While velvet white descends the ground.
No footstep mars the powdered lane, No breath disturbs the frosted pane. The sky is ink, the earth is light, A ghost-lit glow in dead of night.
The stars are hid behind the veil, Where shadows blue and spirits sail. A silent cold, a holy hush, Before the morning’s frantic rush.
Safe inside, the embers glow, Against the tide of falling snow. A world erased, a world made new, In midnight’s deep and frozen hue.
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