Poems about Winter poems

What is this feeling within my heart; Concealed by daylight hours, in a shroud of taut restraint.Winter evenings consume, yesterdays pursue me, Smiling, speaking, acting – I can cope, I

Hello Winter, hello flanneledblanket of clouds, cloudsfueled by more clouds, hello again.Hello afternoons, off to the west, that silverof sunset, rust-coloredand gone too soon.And night (I ad

Ok, so I'm sorry.Isn't that what you wanted to know? in that case, you win.I'll send back your pictures and your books, you can keep the dictionary, some dayyou might put it to use.Assuming you

(The moons of December, January and February were once known by our forebears respectively as Long Night or Cold Moon, Wolf or Storm Moon, and Snow Moon) Cold moons of winter The wolf and the s

Out in a world of death far to the northward lying, Under the sun and the moon, under the dusk and the day; Under the glimmer of stars and the purple of sunsets dying, Wan and waste

The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill And chides with angry moan the frosty skies, The white stars gaze with sleepless Gorgon eyes That freeze the earth in terror fixed and still. We reck no

Although the roof is just a story high,It dizzies me a little to look down.I lariat-twirl the rope of Christmas lightsAnd cast it to the weeping birch's crown;A dowel into which I've screwed a hoo

When Winter snows upon thy golden hairs, And frost of age hath nipt thy flowers near, When dark shall seem thy day that never clears, And all lies wither'd that was held so dear, Then take this pi

LIKE the vultureWho on heavy morning cloudsWith gentle wing reposingLooks for his prey,--Hover, my song!For a God hathUnto each prescribedHis destined path,Which the happy oneRuns o'er swift

1 For weeks and weeks the autumn world stood still,2 Clothed in the shadow of a smoky haze;3 The fields were dead, the wind had lost its will,4 And all the lands were hushed by

When against earth a wooden heel Clicks as loud as stone on steel, When stone turns flour instead of flakes, And frost bakes clay as fire bakes, When the hard-bitten fields at last Crack like iro

[Supposed to be chanted to some rude instrument at a modern fireplace]Chant we the story now Tho' in a house we sleep; Tho' by a hearth of coals Vigil to-night we keep. Chant we the stor