Timely and Timeless

For many years this poem was included in the anthology used in the junior American Lit classes.  I always taught it with the unit on the Fireside Poets, along with John Greenleaf Whittier's poem "Snowbound" and many others.  This one, and Whittier's poem, was always good to teach just at this time of year, during a winter snow. Students could relate better to the images when just outside the window the same scenes are found.  

On the east side of Francesville in the Roseland Cemetery.  Every time I drive past it on a snowy day I think of this poem.  The many graves are blanketed with snow, just as the grave was in the poem.  Each time I think about how the body of the deceased is still resting inside the casket, just as it was the last time family members said goodbye right before the lid was closed for the final time.  The body appears to be as one is sleeping, with eyes closed, hands folded, and a peaceful look upon the face.  

Snow is insulating.  It provides a cover for whatever is below its depth.  The flakes pack together and form a blanket for the area in front of and behind the stone. The melting snow will provide nourishment for the grass and other plants beneath it with water and other minerals and nutrients.

 

 

The First Snowfall

by James Russell Lowell

THE snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,
The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,
And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
Where a little headstone stood;
How the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,
Saying, 'Father, who makes it snow?'
And I told of the good All-father
Who cares for us here below.

Again I looked at the snowfall,
And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
The scar of our deep-plunged woe.

And again to the child I whispered,
'The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
Alone can make it fall! '

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepening snow. 

This winter our family is experiencing many 'firsts' without Gary's folks. During the spring and summer it was the first planting season.  The first Mother's Day.  The first Memorial Day weekend.  The first Father's Day.   Fireworks and the 4th of July.  The fair. The 67th wedding anniversary.  His birthday.

Now after November 10, the voids are larger, more noticeable.  The first Thanksgiving without them.  Soon, the first Christmas.  Tessa's birthday party and Shelby's graduation Open House was the first 'events' without either of them in attendance.  The family pulled together, though; all four of the siblings attended the birthday party.  All of us except Mike, Angie and Nick were at the open house on Saturday.

The past few days saw the first (or maybe it was the second) major snowfall.  Yesterday as we drove to church and passed Roseland Cemetery, this poem popped into my mind.  Even though the subject is a child and her death, the phrases still are applicable to us.

a mound

a headstone

a cemetery

flakes folded around

the leaden sky

our first great sorrow

the mound heaped so high

gradual patience

falling from the sky

flake by flake

healing and hiding the scar of our deep-plunged woe

kiss given to her sister folded close under the deepening snow

Timely because of the season, because of recent losses in our family.

Timeless because life and death are forever with us. 

 
Edited to add on Dec. 23, 2016:

Last week we were in Wooster for Mom's heart valve replacement.  I always stop by the cemetery when we are in town, and this time I took a picture of Dad's gravesite to add to this blog post.  Covered in a blanket of snow.....