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b"R Bridges read by Classic Poetry Aloud: Giving voice to the poetry of the past.\\nwww.classicpoetryaloud.com\\n\\n--------------------------------------------\\n\\nLondon Snow\\nby Robert Bridges (1844 \\u2013 1930)\\n\\nWhen men were all asleep the snow came flying, \\nIn large white flakes falling on the city brown, \\nStealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, \\n Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town; \\nDeadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing; \\nLazily and incessantly floating down and down: \\n Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing; \\nHiding difference, making unevenness even, \\nInto angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing. \\n All night it fell, and when full inches seven \\nIt lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness, \\nThe clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven; \\n And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness \\nOf the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare: \\nThe eye marvelled - marvelled at the dazzling whiteness; \\n The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air; \\nNo sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling, \\nAnd the busy morning cries came thin and spare. \\n Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling, \\nThey gathered up the crystal manna to freeze \\nTheir tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing; \\n Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees; \\nOr peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!' \\n'O look at the trees!' they cried, 'O look at the trees!' \\n With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder, \\nFollowing along the white deserted way, \\nA country company long dispersed asunder: \\n When now already the sun, in pale display \\nStanding by Paul's high dome, spread forth below \\nHis sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day. \\n For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow; \\nAnd trains of sombre men, past tale of number, \\nTread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go: \\n But even for them awhile no cares encumber \\nTheir minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken, \\nThe daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber \\nAt the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken.\\n\\nFirst aired: 30 December 2007\\n\\nFor hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index.\\n\\nReading \\xa9 Classic Poetry Aloud 2008"