The room's become lighter, and I soon surmise,
What sight through the window will soon meet my eyes;
I sit up and look through the mist-covered glass,
At the lawn which just yesterday sported green grass,
And all I can see is a carpet of white
That's arrived in my garden some time in the night.
It all looks so beautiful, peaceful and still,
But heralds the coming of winter's hard chill.
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