Hard as a stone, and soft as wool.
’Tis of no color, but of snow,
Outside and inside black as ink;
All red, all yellow, green and blue—
This moment you upon it think.
In every noise, this strikes your ear,
’Twill soon expire, ’twill ne’er decay;
Does always in the light appear,
And yet was never seen by day.
Than the whole earth it larger is,