Wickmeyer and the Snow


The snow does not fall from the heavens pure,
Unblemished, to be sullied by the ground;
The cold stars’ lacework arms are ringed around
A hidden heart of filth within its core.
The oyster’s pearl, which glimmers in its shell
Of snot-slick stone, a jewel within the slime,
Itself is layered, one foul mote of grime
The seed which nacre’s skillful shine hid well.
This fault is not rejected—rather, nursed
By cotton clouds, and swaddled in the wind.
It spins itself a suit of crystal clothes
That well recall the smut in last year’s snows;
As, in the heart of Eden, all men sinned
When Adam sinned, and likewise all were cursed.

Subscribe to Modern Age

Founded in 1957 by the great Russell Kirk, Modern Age is the forum for stimulating debate and discussion of the most important ideas of concern to conservatives of all stripes. It plays a vital role in these contentious, confusing times by applying timeless principles to the specific conditions and crises of our age—to what Kirk, in the inaugural issue, called “the great moral and social and political and economic and literary questions of the hour.”

Get the Collegiate Experience You Hunger For

Your time at college is too important to get a shallow education in which viewpoints are shut out and rigorous discussion is shut down.

Explore intellectual conservatism
Join a vibrant community of students and scholars
Defend your principles

Join the ISI community. Membership is free.

You might also like