My dreams are handicapped by the ghosts of my dreams past 

Said Alice from the sanctuary of our bed

I do like the snow glow it is a rare phenomena 

We were both watching the soft white shadows

Crossing our pale bedroom ceiling

After the days of the frozen winds

I am so happy that the soft snow is now falling 

Its light flows everywhere without the slightest inhibition 

I stood up and looked at the fresh farm fields

Which were a smooth white apart from the high hedges

That criss-crossed the troubled dreams of Said Alice