Pine trees crusted with snow

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter;

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.