Category Archives: inurns it

Snow in the Suburbs – Thomas Hardy

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(1:10)
read by C. Day Lewis, Anthology of 20th Century English Poetry

Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute:
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again.
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.

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