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 But where are the snows of last year? That was the greatest 
concern of Villon, the Parisian poet.
 read more 
 But where are the snows of last year? That was the greatest 
concern of Villon, the Parisian poet.
 [Fr., Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan? C'estoit le plus grand 
soucy qu'eust Villon, le poete parisien.] 
 O that I were a mockery king of snow,
 Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke
  To melt read more 
 O that I were a mockery king of snow,
 Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke
  To melt myself away in water drops! 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
 Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
  Seems read more 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
 Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
  Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
   Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
    And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
     The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
      Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
       Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
        In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 
 Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
 Out of an unseen quarry evermore
  Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
read more 
 Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
 Out of an unseen quarry evermore
  Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
   Curves his white bastions with projected roof
    Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
     Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
      So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
       For number or proportion. 
 But where are the snows of yester year?
 [Fr., Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?]  
 But where are the snows of yester year?
 [Fr., Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?] 
 If but a dozen French
 Were there in arms, they would be as a call
  To train read more 
 If but a dozen French
 Were there in arms, they would be as a call
  To train ten thousand English to their side,
   Or as a little snow, tumbled about,
    Anon becomes a mountain. 
 Lo. sifted through the winds that blow,
 Down comes the soft and silent snow,
  White petals from read more 
 Lo. sifted through the winds that blow,
 Down comes the soft and silent snow,
  White petals from the flowers that grow
   In the cold atmosphere. 
 Where's the snow
 That fell the year that's fled--where's the snow?  
 Where's the snow
 That fell the year that's fled--where's the snow? 
 Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
 For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
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 Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
 For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
  Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.