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Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in read more
Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.
And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters
of that country know them to read more
And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters
of that country know them to be sharp and violent, and subject to
cruel and fierce storms. . . . For summer being done, all things
stand upon them with a weather-beaten face, and the whole
country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and
savage hue.
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.
When now, unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts and groves dismantled roar;
Around their read more
When now, unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts and groves dismantled roar;
Around their home the storm-pinched cattle lows,
No nourishment in frozen pasture grows;
Yet frozen pastures every morn resound
With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground.
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.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.
And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.
There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of read more
There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes--
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.