ASLaN St. Nicholas Literary Page
Christmas Poetry


The Cross of Snow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

                 In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
            A gentle face -- the face of one long dead --
            Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
            The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
            Here in this room she died; and soul more white
            Never through martyrdom of fire was led
            To its repose; nor can in books be read
            The legend of a life more benedight.
            There is a mountain in the distant West
            That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
            Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
            Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
            These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
            And seasons, changeless since the day she died.