Thursday, December 5, 2019

Woods in Winter


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When winter winds are piercing chill,
And through the hawthorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill,
That overbrows the lonely vale.
    O'er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach of desert woods,
The embracing sunbeams chastely play,
And gladden these deep solitudes.

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the stillness broke,
The crystal icicle is hung.
Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river's gradual tide,
Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.
 Alas! how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out their mellow lay,
And winds were soft, and woods were green,
And the song ceased not with the day!

But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd;
And gathering winds, in hoarse accord,
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.


6 comments:

  1. Amazing how words in skillful hands paint vibrant , gorgeous pictures !
    Thank you for beginning my day with beauty !
    wishing you joy and all good things , my friend

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  2. Love the poem, love the painting, love your new blog look. Nothing I don't love here Annie. Got your beautiful card today. It's now hanging on the bulletin board in my room. I'm not able to send cards out My printer won't hook up to the home's network. Thank you so much my friend I shall cherish it.. 💜

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  3. Beautiful poem and I just love your new look here, Annie. smiles

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