Heroic couplets are a tricky thing,
Constricting, aye, but how the verses ring!
So now, on such a topic as a day
When heaven's powder washes school away,
I'll write in such a way, which aptly suits
The joy that lies within a snow day's roots.
They're often rather quiet, even when
You spend the hours on the phone with friends.
The fallen snow, still fresh and blazing white,
Provides the special day with special light,
Which shines between the casements and the blinds
To tell us, when we wake, to rest our minds.
This morning, though, it all in stages grew,
So at the glimmers, I already knew.
At twenty after six I first awoke
And for that mother never came and spoke,
I knew that school at least had been delayed
And I again went down to slumber's shade.
Yet but two hours later, again I stirred,
And thought that deep within my head I heard,
"For certain, that now easily puts paid
To crushing thoughts that school's been just delayed!"
I then remained, while drifting in and out
Between those blissful realms that seemed to shout
"The day is thine, thou overworkèd bee--
Rise whene'er thou pleasest; thou art free!"