The Snow


"What makes the Snow, Mamma?"

"When very cold above,

The mists are frozen high in air,

And fall as snow, my love."











"And Hail?" "Tis formed the same;

Cold streams of air have come

And frozen all the water-drops,

And thus the hail-stones form.



"Now do not question more,

Dear child, but run and play,

I'll tell you of the Water, Fire,

And Light, another day."

"Oh yes, and dear Mamma,

Of Thunder, Lightning, too,

For I shall want to know it all,

So tell me, Mamma, do."



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