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The Snow-Shroud
By Wesley Williamson

(A sonnet looking forward to Expo '67 in Montreal)

          The snow-shroud settles comfortably
          About the corpse: the city sounds groan down
          To a deeper note; the measured beat
          Of a muffled drum calls

          Come one come all to Montreal,
          Shuffle in uneasy ceremonial
          Around the bier, and squeeze a conscientious tear:
          One hundred years, an unconscionable time a'dying.

          Still it was a grand wake we had
          For the old man and him lying
          All dressed up in his Sunday best.

          from his slow
          Corruption, under the vast innocence of the snow,
          The customary miracle may bring
                                                  A brighter leaf
          come Spring.

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