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Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems read more
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
These Winter nights against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and read more
These Winter nights against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and fine spray of pines,
Oak-leaf and acorn and fantastic vines,
Which she will make when summer comes again--
Quaint arabesques in argent, flat and cold,
Like curious Chinese etchings.
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.
Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.
Every mile is two in winter.
Every mile is two in winter.
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a read more
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay--
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air,
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet,
His read more
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air,
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet,
His finger on all flowing waters sweet
Forbidding lay--motion nor sound was there:--
Nature was frozen dead,--and still and slow,
A winding sheet fell o'er her body fair,
Flaky and soft, from his wide wings of snow.
