Dis 'n eenvoudige lang beskrywing van 'n groot familiepartytjie in 1904 wat deur 'n paartjie (Gabriel en Gretta Convoy) bygewoon word, waarna hulle laat in die nag terugstap deur die sneeu huistoe.
Die partytjie, die stap en die sneeu het 'n helende effek op die twee - maar dan skielik breek iets in die vrou, sy begin histeries huil, en vertel uiteindelik vir haar verdwaasde man van 'n ou geliefde - Michael Furey - wat op ouderdom 17 aan longontsteking (koue en sneeu) gesterf het.
Met Gretta uiteindelik gekalmeer en aan die slaap, dink Gabriel aan alles.
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, further westwards, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling too upon every part of the lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
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