Then, Most, I Smile
Late it is to look so proud,
Daisy queen! come is the gloom
Of the winter-burdened cloud!--
'But, in winter, most I bloom!'
Star of even! sunk the sun!
Lost for e'er the ruddy line;
And the earth is veiled in dun,--
'Nay, in darkness, best I shine!'
O, my soul! art 'bove alarm,
Quaffing thus the cup of gall--
Canst thou face the grave with calm?--
'Yes, the Christians smile at all.'
poem by Victor Hugo
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To Time
Time! on whose arbitrary wing
The varying hours must flag or fly,
Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,
But drag or drive us on to die---
Hail thou! who on my birth bestowed
Those boons to all that know thee known;
Yet better I sustain thy load,
For now I bear the weight alone.
I would not one fond heart should share
The bitter moments thou hast given;
And pardon thee---since thou couldst spare
All that I loved, to peace or Heaven.
To them be joy or rest---on me
Thy future ills shall press in vain;
I nothing owe but years to thee,
A debt already paid in pain.
Yet even that pain was some relief;
It felt, but still forgot thy power:
The active agony of grief
Retards, but never counts the hour.
In joy I've sighed to think thy flight
Would soon subside from swift to slow;
Thy cloud could overcast the light,
But could not add a night to Woe;
For then, however drear and dark,
My soul was suited to thy sky;
One star alone shot forth a spark
To prove thee---not Eternity.
That beam hath sunk---and now thou art
A blank---a thing to count and curse
Through each dull tedious trifling part,
Which all regret, yet all rehearse.
One scene even thou canst not deform---
The limit of thy sloth or speed
When future wanderers bear the storm
Which we shall sleep too sound to heed.
And I can smile to think how weak
Thine efforts shortly shall be shown,
When all the vengeance thou canst wreak
Must fall upon---a nameless stone.
Seasons of the Heart
The different hues that deck the earth
All in our bosoms have their birth;
'Tis not in the blue or sunny skies,
'Tis in the heart the summer lies!
The earth is bright if that be glad,
Dark is the earth if that be sad:
And thus I feel each weary day-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
In vain, upon her emerald car,
Comes Spring, 'the maiden from afar,'
And scatters o'er the woods and fields
The liberal gifts that nature yields;
In vain the buds begin to grow,
In vain the crocus gilds the snow;
I feel no joy though earth be gay-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
And when the Autumn crowns the year,
And ripened hangs the golden ear,
And luscious fruits of ruddy hue
The bending boughs are glancing through,
When yellow leaves from sheltered nooks
Come forth and try the mountain brooks,
Even then I feel, as there I stray-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
And when the winter comes at length,
With swaggering gait and giant strength,
And with his strong arms in a trice
Binds up the streams in chains of ice,
What need I sigh for pleasures gone,
The twilight eve, the rosy dawn?
My heart is changed as much as they-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
Even now, when Summer lends the scene
Its brightest gold, its purest green,
Whene'er I climb the mountain's breast,
With softest moss and heath-flowers dress'd,
When now I hear the breeze that stirs
The golden bells that deck the furze,
Alas! unprized they pass away-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
But when thou comest back once more,
Though dark clouds hang and loud winds roar,
And mists obscure the nearest hills,
And dark and turbid roll the rills,
Such pleasures then my breast shall know,
That summer's sun shall round me glow;
Then through the gloom shall gleam the May-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy
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Freedom's Star
As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
I turned my fond gaze to the sky;
I beheld all the stars as so sweetly they lay,
And but one fixed my heart or my eye.
Shine on, northern star, thou’rt beautiful and bright
To the slave on his journey afar;
For he speeds from his foes in the darkness of night,
Guided on by thy light, freedom’s star.
On thee he depends when he threads the dark woods
Ere the bloodhounds have hunted him back;
Thou leadest him on over mountains and floods,
With thy beams shining full on his track.
Shine on, &c.
Unwelcome to him is the bright orb of day,
As it glides o’er the earth and the sea;
He seeks then to hide like a wild beast of prey,
But with hope, rests his heart upon thee.
Shine on, &c.
May never a cloud overshadow thy face,
While the slave flies before his pursuer;
Gleam steadily on to the end of his race,
Till his body and soul are secure.
Shine on, &c.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Insane Gloom
The eve brings with her a bundle of gloom
The bundle gets untied with Suns' departure
Thus, spreading everywhere the awesome gloom,
Sweeping the day light which wants to linger.
Even then in darkness a little star twinkles
Appearing as if a sensuous lass's dimple.
On shy damsels cheek only a dimple appears
Lal Bahadoor twinkles as Mother India's dimple.
Was not it good oh star just like water
To change own color to that of mixing matter?
Of the diplomats too same is the line
Then why did you twinkling star tried to shine?
The powerful fools just like the gloom
Think of suppressing even the shining moon.
Then of a little star what was the matter
Breaking you your pieces they tried to scatter.
I think oh star but you knew the truth
Soon dwan will arrive to stop their breath.
It will destroy insame gloom with a smile
Not affecting oh star your twinkling.
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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Christmas Roses
White-faced Winter Roses,
O'er the grave I plant you
Where the dead reposes,
That a soul may haunt you,
And your ghostly whiteness
In the Winter gloom,
Seem some spirit-brightness
Shining from the tomb!
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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Winter Rain
Falling upon the frozen world last night,
I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain-
Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;
The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might,
Far better had the fixedness of white
And uncomplaining snows-which make no sign,
But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine-
Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.
Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,
I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.
Though sinewy Fate deals her most skilful blow,
I do not waste the gall now of my tears,
But feed my pride upon its bitter, while
I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Psalm 13
Pleading with God under desertion.
How long, O Lord, shall I complain,
Like one that seeks his God in vain?
Canst thou thy face for ever hide,
And I still pray, and be denied?
Shall I for ever be forgot,
As one whom thou regardest not
Still shall my soul thine absence mourn,
And still despair of thy return?
How long shall my poor troubled breast
Be with these anxious thoughts oppressed?
And Satan, my malicious foe,
Rejoice to see me sunk so low?
Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief,
Before my death conclude my grief:
If thou withhold thy heav'nly light,
I sleep in everlasting night.
How will the powers of darkness boast,
If but one praying soul be lost!
But I have trusted in thy grace,
And shall again behold thy face.
Whate'er my fears or foes suggest,
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest;
My heart shall feel thy love, and raise
My cheerful voice to songs of praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Winter Is Now Here
Now that chilly breezes are here
We know taht winter is surely near
When nice and warm and sunny scenes
And evergreen trees can be rarely seen
Because winter season is here atlast
And talk of summer is the thought of past
Now on hills, valleys and farms
Winter spread its beauty and charm
With wintery smiles and snowy sights
Along with cold and frosty nights
As season is quietly changing its face
So winter can quickly take summer's place
And mocking birds with nightingales
Are going back to their narrow vales
And are singing cheerful welcoming songs
For winter season is here atlast
Now lilies taht will no more bloom
Seem very sad and in gloom
And are looking at the misty sky
And saying dear summer goodbye
As the weather is quietly changing its face
So winter can quickly take summer's place.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Love
Why is it said thou canst not live
In a youthful breast and fair,
Since thou eternal life canst give,
Canst bloom for ever there?
Since withering pain no power possessed,
Nor age, to blanch thy vermeil hue,
Nor time's dread victor, death, confessed,
Though bathed with his poison dew,
Still thou retain'st unchanging bloom,
Fixed tranquil, even in the tomb.
And oh! when on the blest, reviving,
The day-star dawns of love,
Each energy of soul surviving
More vivid, soars above,
Hast thou ne'er felt a rapturous thrill,
Like June's warm breath, athwart thee fly,
O'er each idea then to steal,
When other passions die?
Felt it in some wild noonday dream,
When sitting by the lonely stream,
Where Silence says, 'Mine is the dell';
And not a murmur from the plain,
And not an echo from the fell,
Disputes her silent reign.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Shine! Shine my star! (Russian romance)
Shine and shine my loving star!
My shining star, my greeting star.
You are the one and cherished only one,
I'll never have another one.
And when the bright night comes down to the ground
So many stars are in the sky
But you're the one, my star, my beauty star,
You shine in gratifying rays.
The star of hope, the star of paradise,
The star of love and magic days.
You'll always be unsetting star of mine,
My soul will long for you and chase.
And all my life lights up with strength of yours,
Your rays are bright and give me light.
And if I die you shine above the grave
Just shine and shine my loving star!
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Late Winter
This Winter came so late,
It hasn't even come,
The warmth still remains,
From late Autumn,
At thirteen it stays,
No frost, wind or coldness,
No shrill in the voices of men,
As they stare into the oncoming snow,
The breeze and quality ice,
Nothing... nothing at all...
It doesn't feel like Winter,
It feels like Late Winter,
That the control panel,
For Winter has been overridden,
Taken over, not knowing when,
How, or even why to start,
Journal burnt in Autumn,
Crisp, warm weather,
Nothing remains,
No snow walks, evenings by the fire,
Staying away from the cold,
So warm...
Please, Late Winter,
Arrive, we're waiting,
So real Winter can begin,
At full speed, steaming ahead,
Faster than the world can take it,
Late Winter... arrive...
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
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Summer's Kiss
Write me a summer song
plant here a warming kiss
seed it in these furrows long
in sunsets' languid dip.
Sing lyrics to my buried soul
which lives beneath
in numbing receded cold.
Sing to me underground
another season's bloom.
See my soul steeled against
against this dying cold abyss.
I shall not die in winter's cold
nor miss this year's summer's kiss
I'll bloom my soul's flower
in garden green-
my petals high sky'ed-
flower flights and butterflies
star dust destines;
all my hopes mingled.
Plant me here then
on ready cheek
just one summer's kiss,
my furrow to bloom
my soul 'neath
will rise fully watered
flowers fully bloomed;
Now start in me another
Hope's Season
even beneath
my winter's frozen
soil.
And here regard
Winter's frozen bloom
kissed by your summer lips
your's planted
upon mine.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Spring. (From The French Of Charles D'Orleans. XV. Century)
Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart sad,
And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay,
He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train,
The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain;
And they shrink away, and they flee in fear,
When thy merry step draws near.
Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old,
Their beards of icicles and snow;
And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold,
We must cower over the embers low;
And, snugly housed from the wind and weather,
Mope like birds that are changing feather.
But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear,
When thy merry step draws near.
Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky
Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud;
But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh;
Thou tearest away the mournful shroud,
And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly,
Who has toiled for nought both late and early,
Is banished afar by the new-born year,
When thy merry step draws near.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Eternal winter
Winter came and would not leave
It’s been too long since I have felt
This darkness knows only 1 weave
An ice so hard, it cannot melt
It’s all that fills my hollow soul
A soul stripped bare like winter’s heart
A half that will never be whole,
Yet lives for that one missing part
My days are empty in my wake
Deserted of all need or meaning
A cold routine I cannot break
Too numb, too late, my heart is weeping
At night I lie alone in bed
With only Silence by my side
For long ago have we been wed
His frozen arms enclose his bride
I gave up waiting for a sign
I can no longer show my rage
My sanity is on the line,
Yet I embrace this dead-cold cage
And so I sit thinking of love
The irony none can comprehend
I relish my eternal winter
And pray for summer once again.
poem by Diva Khoury
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Silver Frosty Leaves (from Minutes of Falling Days)
Sweet love of dreams and morning's blossoms white
That from twilight comes in to its bloom
With some spear of gleams from bluish starry night
Conquer of the winter in gray and gloom
Life's glimmer and silver frosty leaves
Show their ways when darkness again comes
Each their dream and longings that retrieves
When tone down in palpable deep winter hums
The morning of shadowed silvery moon
Ice on the river in mirroring hold
Yesterday’s retention - in memory
Flowers of winter in their midnight noon
Hallucinations of chill that now fold
Like decorations on every tree
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Seasons Are Like You
The seasons are like you
Flowers bloom humming birds come home everything
Changes but not you you stay the same they must
Leave and you will stay cause you are my winter
Spring summer and fall you stay with me through
The seasons cause you are my winter spring summer
And fall stay with me you have the eyes of winter
The face of spring the body of summer the hair of
Fall because you are like winter cool and calm you
Are like spring beautiful and blossoming you are
Like summer warm and caring you are like fall
Gentle and long lasting cause you are like winter spring
Summer and fall you are my seasons without you I
Am nothing do not leave me I need you careing stay
Please I need you
this is dedicated to savannah
poem by Tucker Lane
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Averil
I love thee, April! for thou art the Spring
When Spring is Summer; and thy wayward showers,
Sudden and short, soothly do bring May flowers,
Thus making thee a harbinger, whose wing
Bright jewels, Nature's rarest choice, doth fling
O'er dewy-glistening brakes and banks and bowers,
To ravish loving eyes through longer hours
When Winter is a dead forgotten thing.
Such promise dost thou give of Summer bloom;--
But thine own sunshine hast thou, thine own light;
And fair are April flowers, April leaves--
Fairer to eyes aching from Winter's gloom
Than late-blown joys of May, that greet the sight
When drunk with gladness it from thee receives.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
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Winter Sinfonia
The storm is coming soon
It rolls in from the sea
But your voice is a beacon in the night
And I can hear all the kind words that you are saying my friend
But your light will always shine in the sky at night during the winter
The winter is cold and it gives me the shivers all through my body
This is the winter
That will carry me to you
And I know that you will be waiting for me on the other side of the frozen lake when God delivers me on earthagainduring this winter
Is your love alive during the winter?
Is your love alive during the winter?
This is the winter
February never felt so right
But I am where I belong
poem by Aldo Kraas
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