I sat in the midst of a plain on my snowshoes with bended knee

Where the thin wind stung my cheeks,

And the hard snow ran in little ripples and peaks,

Like the fretted floor of a white and petrified sea.

And a strange peace gathered about my soul and shone,

As I sat reflecting there,

In a world so mystically fair,

So deathly silent--I so utterly alone.

—Archibald Lampman