Read I, a poem, by mon cher ami, Wordsworth,
this morning, and indeed the day did glow.
For snow did fall on Gothenburg
and littered the streets with white light;
Trees appareled in white flakes of
many shapes and birds running hither
thither with the burden of that extra snow.
A feast it was for the morning eyes !
And then…the snow ploughers arrive to
clear away the slushy mass.
All the charm of the once marvelous snow
hath lost whence daylight breaketh in; daily workers
throngeth to various stations and destinations;
curses and slanders is all that remains of that
once beautiful white marvel.
The once ebullient snow at last met it death,
its alter ego, the rapacious water.