The Snow Man

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One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs

Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

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And have been cold a long time

To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

The spruces rough in the distant glitter

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Of the January sun ; and not to think

Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

In the sound of a few leaves,

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Which is the sound of the land

Full of the same wind

That is blowing in the same bare place

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For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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~ Wallace Stevens