Snowfall

"She can't be unhappy," you said,

"The smiles are like stars in her eyes,

And her laughter is thistledown

Around her low replies."

"Is she unhappy?" you said—

But who has ever known

Another's heartbreak—

All he can know is his own;

And she seems hushed to me,

As hushed as though

Her heart were a hunter's fire

Smothered in snow.