The city stood yawning at the dark end of the year
Chimney smoke clinging to the tired-looking rain
Last summer's leaves, dreams and invitations to the ball
Lay greasy in the gutter or had long gone down the drain
And while winter made a treadmill of each day
That barred the way to spring
It fell from a sky of slate
The stillness that the snow brings

Snow on the rooftops threw the moon back at the dark
Out on the marshes you could hear the cattle breathe
Highways deserted, every footfall left its mark
The magpie on the meadow and the fox across the heath.
Frost on the window put the silversmith to shame
With its wild imaginings
They danced like a candle flame
In the stillness that the snow brings.

The thorny undergrowth still waits beneath the drift
Ragged iron and broken stone.
Soon enough to find them when the frost begins to shift
They'll get no sharper if for once you leave them on their own…

Ah but did you hear the silver notes and see the band
Shine like white fire in the shadow of the mill?
Or in the evening hear the notes the bellman sends
Leap from the tower and tumble laughing down the hill?
There'll still be summer and the chatter in the trees
But let them wait to sing
Just sink in up to your knees
In the stillness that the snow brings.