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



Andrea Murphy 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.

Unknown 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...