Emerson: "The Snow Storm"

Okay, I promise no more snow poems. For a while, at least. But indulge me with this last one, Ralph Waldo Emerson's "The Snow Storm":

"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 farm-house 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."