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Show JUST FOLKS .6 THE SILENCE CF SNOWSTORMS I don't know how to ?i !t. but somehow there seems to be I A r.llcnce to a nnowsiorm that just crlpr the r.oul of me. j The rain drops have a patter aa they splav'n agalnrt the panes, 1 And the thunder rolls and rattles liko a thousand railroad tialrs. (Bat a pood old-fashioned snowstorm has no tumult In Its sweep As It spreads Its spotless blanket where the roses lie asleep. ' There's no herald of Itl cominp. no black, angry patch of sk No rrea.: gud of wind to whistle of the Ktorm that H drawing nipii. i But ;ho birds rIvo up llirlr Ringing, and the trees stand ntrnlyht and siill And the snow hi gins to flutter round the humbles, window sill. Then the trdse of b;- i traffic nrni somohow to ille away vrnlle tin- world lakes on the silence of a country Sabbath day Tie ahb rises With the dawnlnjr. ere t lie-Trade- of men baelnsj) So' i . ' of w-ntlrous beauty, wash ed completely of Its rlns. nd the r-i lendor ol in.' tropics and the Cloi of the palm Never know such robes of silver or auch swe.n unbroken calm Aa the humblest northern lilac or the rouehesi fence rails know As the-- stand on winter mornlnps In , their uniforms of snow: oo |