Covering the Land

Covering the land—
Dismal, endless plain—
Blurring the terrain,
Snow haze gleams like sand.

Bronze the sky, with no
Glimmering of light:
Is the moon to grow
Dim, and die tonight?

In the woods, close by,
Billows the fog, cloaks
Gray the cloud-like oaks
Floating on the sky.

Bronze the sky, with no
Glimmering of light:
Is the moon to grow
Dim, and die tonight?

Scrawny wolves, and you,
Wheezing ravens, when
Winds blow sharp, what then?
What? What can you do?

Covering the land—
Dismal, endless plain—
Blurring the terrain,
Snow haze gleams like sand.

Paul Verlaine