In England's realm, where seasons softly blend, A transient guest, the snow descends. It lays a mantle, pure and white, Upon the fields and hills from morn to night.
No claim for benefits, no plea for aid, This silent visitor, no burden laid. It asks for nothing, yet it freely gives, A transformation where the landscape thrives.
The trees adorned with frosty lace, The rooftops wearing winter's grace, The earth below, a tranquil scene, Where winter's magic intervenes.
The snow, so quiet, yet so grand, A fleeting beauty, touched by hand, It melts away, a fleeting sight, Yet leaves behind a world so bright.
In England's heart, where seasons gently sway, The snow arrives, then fades away, A transient guest, a gentle friend, Whose presence brings a wintry blend.
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