Friday, November 26, 2010

Poetry Friday--"Winter"



I expect the first snows to arrive any day now. Once Thanksgiving has passed, it seems that winter comes blowing in with a vengeance. Here's "Winter" by Robert Louis Stevenson:
In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
The redbreast looks in vain
For hips and haws,
Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane
The silver pencil of the winter draws.

When all the snowy hill
And the bare woods are still;
When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs,
And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire,
Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs --
More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire!

"The silver pencil of the winter draws." Great line!

LibriVox has multiple recordings of the poem, click here and give a listen.

The Poetry Friday Round-Up is being hosted by Jone, on this "Black Friday," at Check It Out.

Photo by Paul J. Morris


--Diane

4 comments:

Andy said...

The trees were fringed with ice earlier this morning! Very timely poem, Diane.

Tabatha said...

I especially like the last line - great imagery! Robert Louis Stevenson is known for his novels, but his poetry deserves attention, too. Thanks, Diane.

Blythe Woolston said...

We have new windows on order. I will miss seeing what the silver pencil of the winter draws on my dining room window, but I feel pretty lucky to have the option. I think the still of language here is what makes his novels so vital. Yes, that's a rattling good plot, but the words of the story matter.

Mary Lee said...

I'm hoping for some "laughter of the logs" tomorrow while I (sigh) attack the school work I brought home...