C. _Form and Structure._ There are ten stanzas of four verses (lines) each, with the rhymes at the ends of the second and fourth verses only. The word _snow_ is used four times in rhymes; the words rhyming with it are _crow_, _below_, _woe_ and _know_. All the rhymes in the poem are perfect. The meter is varied iambic trimeter. The first and third lines of each stanza have an added unaccented syllable, while the second and fourth have just three full feet. Anapestic feet are used freely to improve the music; in fact, they are nearly as numerous as the iambic feet. The scansion of the first stanza may be indicated thus: The-snow´|had-be-gun´|in-the-gloam´|ing And-bus´|i-ly-all´|the-night´ Had-been-heap´|ing-field´|and-high´|way With-a-si´|lence-deep´|and-white´ The scansion of the sixth stanza may be shown as follows: Up-spoke´|our-own´|lit-tle-Ma´|bel Say-ing-Fa´|ther-who-makes´|it-snow´ And-I-told´of-the-good´|All-Fa´|ther Who cares´|for-us-here´|be-low´ They are musical stanzas, and the finely chosen words add much to the melody. D. _Sentiment._ Lowell had a little daughter, Blanche, who died shortly before this poem was composed, so we may be sure that it was written from a full heart. He begins by giving us one of the most beautiful pictures of a snow-storm and of a snow-covered world that was ever written. (Compare Lowell's other description of winter to be found in the second part of _The Vision of Sir Launfal_ and Whittier's description in _Snow-Bound_.) When he has made us feel the softness, gentleness and beauty of the snow and caused us to forget that it is cold and damp, he speaks of himself. We can see him sitting by the window looking out upon the beautiful pearl-clad world. He brings us right into his own presence and we can almost see the flocks of startled brown snowbirds whirling by. Not till now, when we are fully in sympathy with him, does he let us know that he has met with a deep, heart-breaking loss. Now we know what the soft flakes are hiding from sight, and our hearts go out with his. Then his innocent little daughter comes in with the simple, commonplace question which he answers so touchingly. Can you not see him with his arm around the child, telling her of the care of the Father who loves little children so dearly? Yet his mind cannot free itself wholly from his first great sorrow, though he remembers that calmness, resignation, and gentle patience fell over his heart as the soft snow falls flake by flake from the leaden sky. To the child, however, he speaks words that she will not fully understand until she, too, is grown and has met with sorrow: "It is only the merciful Father, darling, who can make fall that gentle comfort that heals and hides all suffering."