Ha ha ha...brilliant choice!
Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak
Ha ha ha...brilliant choice!
Snow Flakes
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Out of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
For anyone who's already had enough of the white stuff...
Too Much of the "Beautiful Snow"
by: S. Moore
They may sing of the beautiful snow
Who dwell in a sunnier clime;
For me I would rather bestow
My songs on a theme more sublime.
I long for the beautiful Spring
When the snow, we have had half a year,
Will dissolve, and the little birds sing
With joy when the flowers appear.
In this bleak hyperborean clime
Our winters are chilly and long,
And oft prove a wearysome time
Not worthy a jubilant song.
It is all very well for the rich
Whose comforts are ever in view;
But hard upon women who stitch,
And men who have nothing to do.
Our winters are hard on the poor
And trying to both young and old,
Who have fuel and food to procure,
And suffer the terrible cold.
How oft, when the stormy winds blow
And the sky is with clouds overcast,
And facing the cold drifting snow,
We wish the dread winter was past.
Even now, while I write, the rude storm
Is kicking the clouds 'neath his feet,
While the snow-mounds in many a form
Are raising blockades on the street.
When I sing of the snow, let me lay
Be a wail that is plaintive and sad;
And when the ice passes away
O! won't I rejoice and be glad!
And when Flora visits our earth
I'll join with all nature and sing
With a heart overflowing with mirth,
A song to the beautiful Spring.
Nice One!
The Boy In The Bedroom
Obsessed suggests madness,
In love suggests bliss.
My thoughts have all left me,
Now which one is this?
My insides are empty,
My desire has gone,
The world all around me
And my mind is on one.
See sunlight in darkness,
See water in sand,
See life in eyes
That do not understand.
I could just forget you.
That’s a blessing I miss.
The boy in the bedroom,
Now which one is this?
(written about 10 years ago when life was very different!)
NIce choices on here past couple of days and LFF.....what a little gem this is....you darkest of horses you!
I can't quite believe that we are in the last month of 2010....what a year!
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Last edited by freckle; 02-12-2010 at 10:10 PM.
this poem has such a magical quality to it...beautiful! tho i have to confess I am growing weary of the snow a bit now! (so thanks Harry for your choice!!!)
It is appropiate to read this poem by Christina Rossetti again:
In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago.
Our God, heaven cannot hold him,
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign;
In the bleak midwinter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.
Enough for him, whom Cherubim
Worship night and day
A breast full of milk
And a manger full of hay.
Enough for him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
which adore.
Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But his mother only,
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.
What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him -
Give my heart.
Thank you. I'm glad you liked it
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