The silver paths beneath me rise, they brighten and sustain;
and I, by measured stride, rejoin their whited old refrain.
The snow—like fairest company—this night, has come to call
till barren branch and evergreen are heartened by its’ fall.
Till, luminous, the moon reveals the way upon the row
and I, in bright reflection, lose my burdens as I go.
Till boots conceal their little plots of white upon the track
then rise to leave their mark upon the polished silver back.
The silver paths beneath me rise; the night is bright as day;
and I, my measured stride, release beneath their drift and sway.
