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  • The ground has on its clothes. / The trees poke out of sheets / and each branch wears the sock of God.

    • Anne Sexton,
    • "Snow," The Awful Rowing Toward God ()
  • I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.

    • Anne Sexton,
    • 1958, in Linda Gray Sexton and Lois Ames, eds., Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters ()
  • ... the large white snow-flakes as they flutter down, softly, one by one, whisper soothingly, 'Rest, poor heart, rest!' It is as though our mother smoothed our hair, and we are comforted.

  • There is salvation in snow ...

  • Snow sets us dreaming on vast plains, trackless, colorless / Keep vigil my heart, the snow sets us on saddled racers of white foam ...

  • All the trees are furred with it, the smallest branches bearing their precious ermine carefully against the wind. Now and then glinting veils of it come cascading down, and the trees become graceful dancers, half-hidden, half-revealed through wheeling draperies.

  • Winds are birds; snow is a feather; / Wild white swans are wind and weather.

  • The snow again. White, white net of beauty, net of dream, trapping the earth, trapping the helpless heart of life ...

  • A snow may come as quietly / as cats can walk across a floor. / It hangs its curtains in the air, / and piles its weight against the door.

  • It is shovel, shovel, shovel snow, / Shovel everywhere you go, / Shovel high and shovel low, / Shovel, shovel, shovel snow.

  • The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell, lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything quieter as it fell, so that winter seemed to partake of religion in a way no other season did, hushed, solemn.

  • ... the snow is beautiful. It's always such a relief to see the landscape smoothed out, simplified, made whole. Went skiing over last weekend and found the woods very calm and harmonious in their white cladding. Spiders evidently as surprised by the weather as the rest of us: their webs were still everywhere — little silken laundry lines with perfect snowflakes hung out in rows to dry.

    • Leslie Land,
    • in Leslie Land and Roger Phillips, The 3,000 Mile Garden: An Exchange of Letters on Gardening, Food, and the Good Life ()
  • In shaping the snow into blossoms — / The north wind is tender after all.

    • Ping Hsin,
    • "The Spring Waters" (1920), in Joanna Bankier and Deirdre Lashgari, eds., Women Poets of the World ()