Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Wintertime Poetry


Although it has been cold this week, for Florida, I still cannot claim that it feels like winter. But it is indeed winter, and most people in America are feeling the chill and seeing the bare landscape.

Would you like to look at winter through a poet's eyes? Read these poems to your children, have fun with the rhymes, but most of all learn how to appreciate wintry delights:)

"February Twilight" by Sara Teasdale

I stood beside a hill
Smooth with new-laid snow,
A single star looked out
From the cold evening glow.

There was no other creature
That saw what I could see--
I stood and watched the evening star
As long as it watched me.


"The Sledding Song" by Norman C. Schlichter

Sing a song of winter,
Of frosty clouds in air!

Sing a song of snowflakes
Falling everywhere.
Sing a song of winter!

Sing a song of sleds!

Sing a song of tumbling

Over heels and heads.

Up and down a hillside

When the moon is bright,

Sledding is a tiptop
Wintertime delight.

"Snowflakes" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.


"Daisies" by Frank Dempster Sherman

At evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;

They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadow of the night.


And often while I'm dreaming so,

Across the sky the moon will go;

It is a lady, sweet and fair,
Who comes to gather daisies there.


For, when at morning I arise,

There's not a star left in the skies;

She's picked them all and dropped them down

Into the meadows of the town.


"Good Night" by Jane Taylor

Little baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle-bed;

Shut your eye-peeps, now the day

And the light are gone away;

All the clothes are tucked in tight;

Little baby dear, good night.


Yes, my darling, well I know

How the bitter wind doth blow;

And the winter's snow and rain

Patter on the windowpane;

But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear;

For the window shuttest fast,

Till the stormy night is past;

And the curtains warm are spread

Round about her cradle-bed.

So till morning shineth bright,

Little baby dear, good night.


"Wintertime" by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.




"Picture-Books" in Winter by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.

Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.

All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.

We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.

How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?


"White Fields" by James Stephens

In the winter time we go
Walking in the fields of snow;

Where there is no grass at all;
Where the top of every wall,

Every fence, and every tree,
Is as white as white can be.

Pointing out the way we came,
--Every one of them the same--

All across the fields there be
Prints in silver filigree;

And our mothers always know,
By the footprints in the snow,

Where it is the children go.

"Velvet Shoes" by Elinor Wylie

Let us walk in the white snow

In a soundless space;

With footsteps quiet and slow,

At a tranquil pace,

Under veils of white lace.

I shall go shod in silk,

And you in wool,

White as white cow's milk,

More beautiful

Than the breast of a gull.

We shall walk through the still town

In a windless peace;

We shall step upon white down,

Upon silver fleece,

Upon softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes:

Wherever we go

Silence will fall like dews

On white silence below.

We shall walk in the snow.


"New Year Snow" by Edith Nesbit


The white snow falls on hill and dale,
The snow falls white by square and street,

Falls on the town, a bridal veil,

And on the fields a winding-sheet.


A winding-sheet for last year's flowers,

For last year's love, and last year's tear,

A bridal veil for the New Hours,

For the New Love and the New Year.


Soft snow, spread out his winding-sheet!

Spin fine her veil, O bridal snow!
Cover the print of her dancing feet,

And the place where he lies low.

"A Winter Night" by Sara Teasdale

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

"There's snow on the fields" by Christina Rossetti

There's snow on the fields,
And cold in the cottage,

While I sit in the chimney nook

Supping hot pottage.


My clothes are soft and warm,

Fold upon fold,

But I'm so sorry for the poor

Out in the cold.


"A Comparison" by John Farrar



Apple blossoms look like snow,
They're different, though.
Snow falls softly, but it brings
Noisy things:
Sleighs and bells, forts and fights,
Cozy nights.

But apple blossoms when they go,
White and slow,
Quiet all the orchard space,
Till the place
Hushed with falling sweetness seems
Filled with dreams.


"Plum Trees" by Ranko

So sweet the plum trees smell!
Would that the brush that paints the flower
Could paint the scent as well.

I come to look, and lo,
The plum tree petals scatter down
A fall of purest snow.



3 comments:

Amy said...

love you bloggy look, E!! yay for 3 columns... wow! It's gorgeous!! Weeee hooooo!!!

lisi said...

ohohoh!! i found it! it's really great! really beautiful.. (the video you put together of 'shadowfeet') i thought i'd come back to your page to leave you a comment that i had left you one over on the jan 8th post! hehehe anyhooo... i was scrolling up/down on your page, and saw it closer to the bottom! yeahoo! really nice, esther! you have a such a good eye/great editing! thanks for sharing that friend.. hugs to you! and love, lis
oh! i love robert louis stevenson! my dad's mom used to 'sing' us,
'Bed in Summer'

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

really loved hearing her/with her precious cuban accent.. what a nice memory. thanks for sharing these poems!

U. S. Army Ranger, The Journey Begins said...

Thanks for adding my poem to your site. I am glad that you like it. Please go to this web page and read some more of them. http://www.everypoet.net/poetry/blogs/reginald_levi_walker

As always, may God bless you,
Pastor Reginald Levi Walker

 

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