The Wood-Pile
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,
I paused and said, "I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther -- and we shall see."
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tall slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather --
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled -- and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself, the labor of his ax,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.
poem by Robert Frost
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Related quotes
Nils Finn
Now little Nils Finn had away to go;
The skis were too loose at both heel and toe.
--"That's too bad!" rumbled yonder.
Then little Nils Finn in the snow set his feet:
"You ugliest troll, you shall never me cheat!"
--"Hee-ho-ha!" rumbled yonder.
Nils Finn with his staff beat the snow till it blew
"Your trollship, now saw you how hapless it flew?"
--"Hit-li-hu!" rumbled yonder.
Nils Finn pushed one ski farther forward with might;
The other held fast,--he reeled left and right.
--"Pull it up!" rumbled yonder.
Nils' tears wet the snow, while he kicked and he struck;
The more that he kicked there, the deeper he stuck.
--"That was good!" rumbled yonder.
The birch-trees, they danced, and the pine-trees said "Hoo!"
They more were than one,--were a hundred and two.
--"Know your way?" rumbled yonder.
A laugh shook the ridge till it made the snow fly;
But Nils clenched his fists and he swore 't was a lie.
--"Now beware!" rumbled yonder.
The snow-field yawned wide, and the heavens came low;
Nils thought 't was now time for him also to go.
--"Is he gone?" rumbled yonder.--
Two skis in the snow looked about everywhere,
But saw nothing much; for there was nothing there.
--"Where is Nils?" rumbled yonder.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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Blood Road
The Old Year groaned as he trudged away,
His guilty shadow black on the snow,
And the heart of the glad New Year turned grey
At the road Time bade him go.
"O Gaffer Time, is it blood-road still?
Is the noontide dark as the stormy morn?
Is man's will yet as a wild beast's will?
When shall the Christ be born?"
He laughed as he answered, grim Gaffer Time,
Whose laugh is sadder than all men's moan.
"That name rides high on our wrath and crime,
For the Light in darkness shone.
"And thou, fair youngling, wilt mend the tale?"
The New Year stared on the misty word,
Where at foot of a cross all lustrous pale
Men raged for their gods of gold.
"Come back, Old Year, with thy burden bent.
Come back and settle thine own dark debt."
"Nay, let me haste where the years repent,
For I've seen what I would forget."
"And I, the first of a stately train,
The tramp of a century heard behind,
Must I be fouled with thy murder-stain?
Is there no pure path to find?"
The Old Year sneered as he limped away
To the place of his penance dim and far.
The New Year stood in the gates of day,
Crowned with the morning star.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodbye Winter Goodbye Everybody
Winter has passed friends will go
this year is gone along with the snow
this was the year that everyone knows
this is the year that everyone goes
I'll try not to cry but I'll miss you all
but again I know the snow will fall
My memories will come back that I do know
As long as my life is lived in the snow
I try to hold it all in but it's hard not to cry
thinking about leaving watching the sky
Snowflakes will fall onto my head
I will remember everything you've said
The Joy, the Sadness, the Fun, the Pain
I can see my future from this strength
the future of me the future of the snow
it will all work out this I know
I said I wouldn't cry but this I did lie
This is really sad after all
We will make new friends
til' now and til' then
But for now I say goodbye
to you, to snow sky
poem by Travis Ciempa
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The New-Year Babe
Two together, Babe and Year,
At the midnight chime,
Through the darkness drifted here
To the coast of Time.
Two together, Babe and Year,
Over night and day,
Crossed the desert Winter drear
To the land of May.
On together, Babe and Year
Swift to Summer passed.
'Rest a moment, Brother dear,'
Said the Babe at last.
'Nay, but onward,' answered Year,
'We must farther go,
Through the Vale of Autumn sere
To the Mount of Snow.'
Toiling upward, Babe and Year
Climbed the frozen height.
'We may rest together here,
Brother Babe,-Good-night!'
Then together Babe and Year
Slept; but ere the dawn,
Vanishing, I know not where,
Brother Year was gone!
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Snow-white of the veldt
(after A.G. Visser)
On a winter afternoon it became icy cold
as Rachel and Hendrik was searching for a calf,
when the snow suddenly started falling around them
everything was white like a huge table-cloth.
Lost and half frozen
they could not find the way home,
with the night falling black
they were blinded by the wet winter wind.
She hollowed out an anthill,
with her naked body she diverted the wind,
with her clothes pressed into the hole to shelter her brother
and so the twelve year old girl Rachel died
was devoured by the icy cold and the winter weather
while she saved the life of her seven year old brother.
[References: "Sneeuwitjie" (Snow-white) by A.G. Visser. In the book "Sketse uit die Lewe van Mens en dier" (Sketches in the lives of humans and animals) by Eugène Marais the incident is noted of the twelve year old girl Rachel de Beer who saved the life of her seven year old brother near to the Drakensberg mountains.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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At Lulworth Cove a Century Back
Had I but lived a hundred years ago
I might have gone, as I have gone this year,
By Warmwell Cross on to a Cove I know,
And Time have placed his finger on me there:
"You see that man?" -- I might have looked, and said,
"O yes: I see him. One that boat has brought
Which dropped down Channel round Saint Alban's Head.
So commonplace a youth calls not my thought."
"You see that man?" -- "Why yes; I told you; yes:
Of an idling town-sort; thin; hair brown in hue;
And as the evening light scants less and less
He looks up at a star, as many do."
"You see that man?" -- "Nay, leave me!" then I plead,
"I have fifteen miles to vamp across the lea,
And it grows dark, and I am weary-kneed:
I have said the third time; yes, that man I see!"
"Good. That man goes to Rome -- to death, despair;
And no one notes him now but you and I:
A hundred years, and the world will follow him there,
And bend with reverence where his ashes lie."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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When Its My My Time To Lie Down
When its my time to lay down and rest
no box do I want to lay please dry your
tears my family dear I wont stay gone
for long, I'll come to you each year I'll
I'll come to you in my favorite time
of year and place
Look for me when the trees and houses
look like a white frosted wedding cake
look for me in that first Christmas Snow.
Each year you'll know its me I'll be that
first Christmas wind that blows upon
your face.
Remember this is my favorite time
and place look out on Christmas
night and I'll be in your sight.
see the glimmer upon the new
Christmas snow it will be me
smiling back to you,
Lay down and make Christmas
Snow Angels for then I'll be able
to touch you for you I love so much..
I'll be back next year at the same
time.
GAYLE ANNE GOFF
DECEMBER 2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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The Spring And The Fall
In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.
In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year.
He laughed at all I dared to praise,
And broke my heart, in little ways.
Year be springing or year be falling,
The bark will drip and the birds be calling.
There's much that's fine to see and hear
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year.
'Tis not love's going hurt my days.
But that it went in little ways.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Funky New Year
Went to a party just last night
Wanted to bring the year in right
Woke up this morning I don't know how
Last night I was a happy man, but the way I feel right now
It's gonna be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Ooo, Ahh, got to be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Can't remember when I ever felt worse
Nothing matters and everything hurts
They were passin' round the bottle, made me feel brand new
Trouble with the new man he wants a hit too, hit me
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
oooooo, it's a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Lord, mmm, FUNKY NEW YEAR
Nurse I'm worse FUNKY NEW YEAR
I got to perk up a little FUNKY NEW YEAR
My hair hurts FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
A party baby
Never again FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Who's shoes are these FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Party hardy baby FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
What year is this anyway?
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tuft of Flowers
I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,
"As all must be," I said within my heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim over night
Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly-weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
poem by Robert Frost
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Hill slope
Down on the hill slope a tree was there with flowers on it,
Season came and season goes,
it remain there with shade and fruits to give,
Small wood pecker or big owl,
all were there as it was there home to live,
One day a wood cutter found it useful to him,
he thought it to cut and takes its wood to sell in city,
birds and squirrel on tree helplessly saw the tree,
they tried to make noise,
but it didn't affected the woodcutter in the need
he cut down the tree to take the wood,
the tree on hiill slope became log of wood,
weak protest of bird and animals,
on it was not enough,
to save the tree.
tree full of life became silent as saying what was my fault,
is it only there right to live,
but yes its true only humans here,
are powerfull and can do anything to live and win,
hill slope became barren and dry like desert
poor tree however it was home for many
didn't found the place on to live on earth.
the reason it don't understand
why it is weak and meek.not able to
survive and get its right to stay alive to give shade and life to others.
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Cold Snow Fall
The snow fall this year will be cold.
How will the homeless surive;
living on your doorstep,
or in your garden?
They will trudge through the snow,
their feet getting wet.
Their hands getting frostbite.
Their lips turning blue.
The snow fall this year will be cold.
Whining for food at your door.
Limping and shivering from the cold.
Why should they be treated like this?
The strays will try to do what they can to surive;
eating leftovers,
scrounging on the bins,
being swept away with a broom.
The snow fall this year will be cold.
You'll be at home,
getting warm by the fire,
opening gifts.
Your door is shut,
the curtains are drawn.
You have no clue what is going on outside,
in the cold cruel world.
poem by Scarlet Outlaw
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Cool witnesses
a year for earth
to round the sun
a year for the tree
to round up the time
each year in one ring
one tough and round body
to store all her dreams
wonderful and tall
she stands
holding up
all those rings
welcoming us
to be
witnesses
of
her
cool
cool
dreams
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Her Eyes
Up from the street and the crowds that went,
Morning and midnight, to and fro,
Still was the room where his days he spent,
And the stars were bleak, and the nights were slow.
Year after year, with his dream shut fast,
He suffered and strove till his eyes were dim,
For the love that his brushes had earned at last, --
And the whole world rang with the praise of him.
But he cloaked his triumph, and searched, instead,
Till his cheeks were sere and his hairs were gray.
"There are women enough, God knows," he said. . . .
"There are stars enough -- when the sun's away."
Then he went back to the same still room
That had held his dream in the long ago,
When he buried his days in a nameless tomb,
And the stars were bleak, and the nights were slow.
And a passionate humor seized him there --
Seized him and held him until there grew
Like life on his canvas, glowing and fair,
A perilous face -- and an angel's, too.
Angel and maiden, and all in one, --
All but the eyes. -- They were there, but yet
They seemed somehow like a soul half done.
What was the matter? Did God forget? . . .
But he wrought them at last with a skill so sure
That her eyes were the eyes of a deathless woman, --
With a gleam of heaven to make them pure,
And a glimmer of hell to make them human.
God never forgets. -- And he worships her
There in that same still room of his,
For his wife, and his constant arbiter
Of the world that was and the world that is.
And he wonders yet what her love could be
To punish him after that strife so grim;
But the longer he lives with her eyes to see,
The plainer it all comes back to him.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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A Year Like This One
After a year like this one
Im surprised I do not hate your guts
And, after a year like this one
Im suprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
Im suprised I did not eat my arm
And, after a year like this one
Im sorry if Im not cordial to everyone
La la la la la ....
After a year like this one
Im suprised I do not hate your guts
And, after a year like this one
Im suprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
Im suprised I did not eat my arm
And, after a year like this one
Im sorry if Im not cordial to everyone
La, la, la, la, la.....
After a year like this one
Im supised I am convinced at all
And, after a year like this one
I do not roll my eyes at the cynical
And,after a year like this one
I cant help wonder how theyve been
After a year like this one
I think Ill leave it all to my next-of-kin
La, la, la, la, la.....
After a year like this one
Im suprised were all not raving drunks and
After a year like this one
I want you to choose the restaurant
After a year like this one
Ill need a good whole 16 months alone and
After a year like this one
I think Ill make the west coast beaches my new home
La, la, la, la, la.....
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Itsy Bitsy Spider's Mrs
Itsy Bitsy Spider had it tough from the very start,
All he really wanted was to win the Mrs' heart,
But Mrs Spider was angry after a huge fight,
And scurried up the water spout, away from Itsy's sight.
So up went Itsy to the top of the water spout,
But when he reached the top the Mrs gave a shout,
Her rainfall of tears made him run back down,
And that's when Itsy decided to go to town.
Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "We haven't spoken for hours"
And a kindly young gentleman said, "Why not give her flowers? "
Flowers, Itsy thought, that will prove I'm devout,
So up went Itsy, up the water spout.
The Mrs pushed him down again, tears in her eyes,
And quite distressed, Itsy gave an unhappy sigh.
Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "I saw a tear in her eye"
And a jolly old baker said, "Why not make her a pie?
A pie, itsy thought, that will be the best tack,
So Itsy went up the water spout with a pie on his back.
The Mrs pushed him down again, moaning words of hate,
And Itsy didn't know how to make her emotions sate.
Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "She says all we have is hate"
And a pretty little girl said, "Why not bring her on a date? "
A date, Itsy thought, that will ensure forgiveness!
So Itsy clambered up the spout, not wanting any less.
The Mrs pushed him down again, after her tears had rained,
And Itsy wished he could prove that his love was not feigned.
Standing at the bottom of the spout Itsy wondered what to do.
He thought and thought and then suddenly, he knew!
The way to win the Mrs' back was to simply tell the truth,
It can't be so hard, he thought, I've loved her since our youth.
At the bottom of the spout Itsy yelled to Mrs,
"My dear, my dear, how I miss your kisses! "
"I miss your lively eyes and your happy smile,
I need you back right now, if only for a little while".
"Please, oh please, you cannot just say goodbye,
Because if you don't forgive me, I know that I will die"
At the top of the spout the Mrs' rain stopped flowing,
Before Itsy new it, sunshine was growing.
Itsy saw the sun in her eyes and climbed swiftly to her side,
And Mrs Spider beamed at her husband with joy and pride.
poem by Lenore Lee
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A Faithful Witness
To the firstborn of Yahseph,
Of all that is created;
To the secondborn of Yahseph,
Do set set your mind on Mount Zion;
For His name is His glory and,
Of the economic well-being.
Of the year of the rat,
Of the year of the dog,
Of the year of the cow,
Of the year of the bull,
Of the year of the sheep,
Of the year of the dragon,
Of the year of the snake,
Of the year of the pig,
Of the year of the goat,
Of the year of the lizard,
Of the year of the crocodile,
Of the year of the elephant,
Of the year of the scorpion,
Of the year of the turtle,
Of the year of the fish,
Of the year of the earth,
Of the year of the wind,
Of the year of the fire,
Of the year of the water,
And of the year of the bush!
Like the firstborns of slaves.
The hips of romance,
The faithful witness will not lie;
The same day,
The same night,
Of the love shared at where no oxen are;
And the crib was very clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?
When the bells all ring,
And the horns all blow,
And the couples we know
Are fondly kissing.
Will I be with you,
Or will I be among the missing?
Maybe it's much too early in the game,
Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same,
What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
Wonder who's arms will hold you good and tight,
When it's exactly 12 o'clock that night,
New Year's, New Year's Eve.
Maybe I'm crazy to suppose,
I'd ever be the one you chose,
Out of a thousand invitations you'll receive.
Ah, but in case I stand one little chance,
Here comes the jackpot question in advance,
What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
(Instrumental break)
Out of a thousand invitations you'll receive,
Ah, but in case I stand one little chance,
Here comes the jackpot question in advance,
What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
What are you doing, New Year's Eve?
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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