Snow
Down out of heaven,
Frost-kissed
And wind driven,
Flake upon flake,
Over forest and lake,
Cometh the snow.
Folding the forest,
Folding the farms,
In a mantle of white;
And the river’s great arms,
Kissed by the chill night
From clamor to rest,
Lie all white and shrouded
Upon the world’s breast.
Falling so slowly
Down from above,
So white, hushed, and holy,
Folding the city
Like the great pity
Of God in His love; 20
Sent down out of heaven
On its sorrow and crime,
Blotting them, folding them
Under its rime.
Fluttering, rustling,
Soft as a breath,
The whisper of leaves,
The low pinions of death,
Or the voice of the dawning,
When day has its birth,
Is the music of silence
It makes to the earth.
Thus down out of heaven,
Frost-kissed
And wind driven,
Flake upon flake,
Over forest and lake,
Cometh the snow.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Through and Through
A frown just a smile upside down
A smile a country mile wide
That, s you by my side
Living with you throughout the year
Brings a gentle tear
give me a break for every downy flake
Of snow
On a gloomy lake
Sing me a song like a mockingbird
Don't make it short but long
Live like a lover smitten
While we are united in flight
Oh the melody so sweet
A flake of snow
Over a moonlit lake
Life passes by, but why?
Your love your gentle sigh
My God. Is heaven nigh?
I only love you through and through.
The Warmth of Snow
A snow flake is so complex, yet soft enough to enhance romance.
No flake is like another, neither is a friend or a lover.
The gentle falling of snow makes me think of home,
where I find warmth and cheer, and happiness flow.
A warm heart and cold toes, come next to me, and snuggle close.
I love you now and forever more, as we wait for more snow flakes to fall.
poem by Steven Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter is Just A Snowflake
melting snow
flake disappear
a long time before
it touch
Mother Earth-
touching only
another snow
flake communicate
a sense of beauty
so beautiful
their silence
is the snow-
poem by Dorsey Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cold Silence
The silence of the night
is the winters delight
snow that muffles the sounds
are billions of snow flakes
compacting down.
See that snow flake coming down
I will catch it on my tongue
and it will dissapear, melting
and it will be done.
The beauty of a single snow flake
as you can see, under a microscope
is unique as you'll agree
Not two are alike nope there will never be
another as unique like, you or me.
poem by Ron Schmidt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Christmas To Me
The misty fog
Crept slowly in
As the crystal of frost
Climbed on my window pane
I stand outside
In the cold winter breeze
Feeling the chill
Of our first winter freeze
Will I get to see?
My first snow flake
Will I get to make
An angel in the snow
Will I get to make
A snowman with glee
I stand here pondering
What is a white Christmas?
I can't begin to fathom
A snow white land
Is it true?
Is snow like crystals?
That shimmers in the sun
Do they softly grace?
Your gardens
In the midwinter fun
Christmas to me
Is a Barbie at the beach?
Beach games and swimming
Is how we have our Yule Tide Treats?
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter
How large that thrush looks on the bare thorn-tree!
A swarm of such, three little months ago,
Had hidden in the leaves and let none know
Save by the outburst of their minstrelsy.
A white flake here and there—a snow-lily
Of last night's frost—our naked flower-beds hold;
And for a rose-flower on the darkling mould
The hungry redbreast gleams. No bloom, no bee.
The current shudders to its ice-bound sedge;
Nipped in their bath, the stark reeds one by one
Flash each its clinging diamond in the sun:
'Neath winds which for this winter's sovereign pledge
Shall curb great king-masts to the ocean's edge
And leave memorial forest-kings o'erthrown.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Fragment-2
Wrapped in settling snow from the warm pink
Flakes upon flakes upon patterns and soft geometry
My dad pulls me and sled snow silent
Him the single shape through flake and flake
On getting in home the breath is extinguished
Warmth of different vapours the seer of hot aches
The weight of wet clothes but a discomfort
Sitting and steaming hands in the fire glow
Stars through my window danced upon by rime
Somewhere the full moon shine eases the dark
Covered I lay furtive with an unknown fear
The cold of the space whispered to this hero
The last few nights when through another window
An autumn wind turns midnight into a sanctuary
This turning season places a summons upon chemistry
And accompany its solo even with my ageing
poem by Michael Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Snowfall
My eyes behold its beauty
As my hand
Reaches out for its touch,
While my face
Feels that certain tingle
That makes me love
Snow so much!
My heart embraces its coming
The way a child frolics
In the fallen snow! My beautiful snowfall
Brings joy to my spirit
And sunshine to my day.
It doesn't matter
Whether it be a blizzard
Or a dusting of flakes,
Snow falling from the sky
To me looks the same
Any old way!
Snow, my ever lovely snowfall! Be it Valentine's Day,
President's Day,
And yes,
Be it Groundhog Day!
Let it snow
I walk in it,
As well as sing in it!
I play in the snow
And build my favorite snowman,
Then chase
Each falling flake
As fast as I can! Each breath of air
Feels crystal clear
Making Winter so very dear!
Each descending flake
Falls as if it were
A blessing from the angels,
Appreciating this gift
Of nature from God,
More than any other
Man created pleasure! Let it snow
As well as
Let the winds blow!
I wait for the snow every year,
And can't stop smiling
When it finally appears!
Snowfall, my snowfall!
poem by Holly Bianchi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ice & Snow
People never tell of ice
Or the snow that glitters nice
Or of the icy crunchy snow
Of that most people do not know
The crunch that sounds beneath your feet
As your sole and ice compete
When in the morning as you wake
You see a single white snow flake
You look out of the iced window
The look out seems so very low
Because the snow fell all night
It has left behind its sheet of white
poem by Helen Windass
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Winter's Arms
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane.
Subdued by touch of winter's frigid hand,
I pray for spring to find me once again.
O'wind, you whistle to the winter's tune.
Your melody is heard 'pon day and night,
but one day spring will come to rescue me,
and wisk away your song of winter's blight.
O'tree, you're frozen in the winter's dream.
Your leaves have left you 'neath a moon of white,
but when my prayers are answered 'pon spring's dawn,
you'll thaw beneath its sun with warm delight.
O'field, your harvest has been reaped and spent ~
and winter blankets you 'neath snowy mounds.
Yet one day soon in springtime's rising mist
you'll feel the greening of your earth rebound.
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane ~
but deep within I somehow always know,
that spring will come and find me once again.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Snow Flakes are dancing
Snow flakes are dancing, dancing in the air
By the lake. by the pier, far and near
Mother Earth has a white veil, draped on the ground
White fluffy snow falling gently. no sound
Sun took the day off, napping behind the cloud
Lonely dog barking, yonder, so loud
Dawn is hiding, does not know what to do
Blue sky tucked away can not peep through
Snow flakes all shapes, sailing, dancing all around
I see the foot prints of a lonely cat on the ground
A love bird flew over with a love cry
Looking for his mate? I don't know why
Kids are playing, riding on their sled
Up the hill, down the hill, on and on, not afraid
Parents are watching but having fun too
Little kids so cute, jumping on the snow like kangaroo
Sitting by the window and wonder, looking at the snow flake dancing
Mother Earth's miracle, I feel happy, feel like romancing.
poem by Syed Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nilsson
A rose of perfect red, embossed
With silver sheens of crystal frost,
Yet warm, nor life nor fragrance lost.
High passion throbbing in a sphere
That Art hath wrought of diamond clear,
-- A great heart beating in a tear.
The listening soul is full of dreams
That shape the wondrous-varying themes
As cries of men or plash of streams.
Or noise of summer rain-drops round
That patter daintily a-ground
With hints of heaven in the sound.
Or noble wind-tones chanting free
Through morning-skies across the sea
Wild hymns to some strange majesty.
O, if one trope, clear-cut and keen,
May type the art of Song's best queen,
White-hot of soul, white-chaste of mien,
On Music's heart doth Nilsson dwell
As if a Swedish snow-flake fell
Into a glowing flower-bell.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The wind
(THE TALE)
Cometh the Wind from the garden, fragrant and full of sweet singing--
Under my tree where I sit cometh the Wind to confession.
"Out in the garden abides the Queen of the beautiful Roses--
Her do I love and to-night wooed her with passionate singing;
Told I my love in those songs, and answer she gave in her blushes--
She shall be bride of the Wind, and she is the Queen of the Roses!"
"Wind, there is spice in thy breath; thy rapture hath fragrance Sabaean!"
"Straight from my wooing I come--my lips are bedewed with her kisses--
My lips and my song and my heart are drunk with the rapture of loving!"
(THE SONG)
The Wind he loveth the red, red Rose,
And he wooeth his love to wed:
Sweet is his song
The Summer long
As he kisseth her lips so red;
And he recketh naught of the ruin wrought
When the Summer of love is sped!
(AGAIN THE TALE)
Cometh the Wind from the garden, bitter with sorrow of winter.
"Wind, is thy love-song forgot? Wherefore thy dread lamentations?"
Sigheth and moaneth the Wind: "Out of the desolate garden
Come I from vigils with ghosts over the grave of the Summer!"
"Thy breath that was fragrant anon with rapture of music and loving,
It grieveth all things with its sting and the frost of its wailing
displeasure."
The Wind maketh ever more moan and ever it giveth this answer:
"My heart it is numb with the cold of the love that was born of the
Summer--
I come from the garden all white with the wrath and the sorrow of Winter;
I have kissed the low, desolate tomb where my bride in her loveliness
lieth
And the voice of the ghost in my heart is the voice that forever
outcrieth!"
(AGAIN THE SONG)
The Wind he waileth the red, red Rose
When the Summer of love is sped--
He waileth above
His lifeless love
With her shroud of snow o'erspread--
Crieth such things as a true heart brings
To the grave of its precious dead.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sky Watcher
Black rolls the phantom chimney-smoke
Beneath the wintry moon;
For miles on miles, by sound unbroke,
The world lies wrapt in its ermine cloak,
And the night's icy swoon
Sways earthward in great brimming wells
Of luminous, frosty particles.
Far up the roadway, drifted deep,
Where frost-etched fences gleam;
Beneath the sky's wan, shimmering sleep
My solitary way I keep
Across the world's white dream;
The only living moving thing
In all this mighty slumbering.
Up in the eastern range of hill,
The thin wood spectrally
Stirs in its sleep and then is still
(Like querulous age) at the wind's will.
My shadow doggedly
Follows my footsteps where I go,
A grotesque giant on the snow.
Out where the river's arms are wound,
And icy sedges cling,
There comes to me as in a swound
A far-off clear, thin, vibrant sound,--
The distant hammering
Of frost-elves as they come and go,
Forging, in silver chains, his woe.
I stand upon the hill's bleak crest
And note the far night world:
The mighty lake whose passionate breast,
Manacled into arctic rest,
In shrouded sleep is furled:
The steely heavens whose wondrous host
Wheel white from flaming coast to coast.
Then down the night's dim luminous ways,
Meseems they come once more,
Those great star-watchers of old days
The lonely, calm-ones, whose still gaze,
On old-time, orient shore,
Dreamed in the wheeling sons of light,
The awful secrets of earth's night.
They come, those lofty ones of old,
And take me by the hand,
And call me brother; ages rolled
Are but a smoke-mist; kindred-souled,
They lift me to their band;
Like lights that from pale starbeams shine,
Their clear eyes look with peace on mine.
In language of no common kind
These watchers speak to me;
Their thoughts the depths of heaven find
Like plummets true. It were a kind
Of immortality
To spend with them one holy hour,
And know their love and grasp their power.
And wrapt around with glad content,
I learn with soul serene,
Caught from the beauty that is blent
In earth, the heaven's luminous tent,
The frost-lit dreams between,
And something holier out of sight,
Glad visions of the infinite.
Then backward past the sere hill's breast,
The spectral moaning wood,
With great peace brooding in my breast,
I turn me toward the common rest
Of earth's worn brotherhood;
But as I pass, a sacred sign,
Each lays his holy lips on mine:--
Gives me the golden chrism of song,
Tips my hushed heart with fire;
Till high in heaven I hear that throng
Who march in mystic paths along,
Great Pleiades, The Lyre,
The Te-Deum of the ages swell,
To earth-tuned ear inaudible.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
for Krayge.....
it is not the snow
you know its coldness already
you have experienced frost
and perhaps seen the movie about it
how painful can all these be
white, and prickly and
soft perhaps like a gentle flake
but you know how it gets too lonely
most of the time
did you say that you like someone
and then somehow that someone starts
to evade you as though you have
leprosy?
that is a mild form
leprosy used to be that antisocial
but you know that there is more
than what was
that....
Adenine
Infantrymen
Dementia,
Somnolence
take from it
or perhaps scientifically i once taught
you in our faded Physics class
in magnetism Craig, do not forget,
like poles still repel
and it has not changed since then
despite the blending of the
bends.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Practising the Anthem
A summer wind blows through the open porch,
And, 'neath the rustling eaves,
A summer light of moonrise, calm and pale,
Shines through a vale of leaves.
The soft gusts bring a scent of summer flowers,
Fresh with the falling dew,
And round the doorway, glimmering white as snow,
The tender petals strew.
Clear through the silence, from a reedy pool
The curlew's whistle thrills;
A lonely mopoke sorrowfully cries
From the far-folding hills.
O lovely night, and yet so sad and strange!
My fingers touch the key;
And down the empty church my Christmas song
Goes ringing, glad and free.
Each sweet note knocks at dreaming memory's door,
And memory wakes in pain;
The spectral faces she had turn'd away
Come crowding in again.
The air seems full of music all around—
I know not what I hear,
The multitudinous echoes of the past,
Or these few voices near.
Ah me! the dim aisle vaguely widens out,
I see me stand therein;
A glory of grey sculpture takes the light
A winter morn brings in.
No more I smell the fragrant jessamine flowers
That flake a moonlit floor;
The rustling night-breeze and the open porch
I hear and see no more.
Great solemn windows, down a long, long nave
Their shadow'd rainbows fling;
Dark Purbeck shafts, with hoary capitals,
In carven archways spring.
And overhead the throbbing organ waves
Roll in one mighty sea,
Bearing the song the herald angels sang
Of Christ's nativity.
Dear hands touch mine beneath the open book,
Sweet eyes look in my face,—
They smile, they melt in darkness; I am snatch'd
From my familiar place.
The summer night-wind blows upon my tears;
Its flowery scent is pain.
O cold, white day! O noble minster—when
May I come back again!
To hear the angels' anthem shake the air,
Where never discord jars,—
The Christmas carols in the windy street,
Under the frosty stars;
The dream-like falling from the still, grey skies,
With falling flakes of snow,
Of mellow chimes from old cathedral bells,
Solemn and sweet and slow.
To hear loved footsteps beating time with mine
Along the churchyard path,—
To see that ring of faces once again
Drawn round the blazing hearth.
When may I come? O Lord, when may I go?
Nay, I must wait Thy will.
Give patience, Lord, and in Thine own best way
My hopes and prayers fulfil.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alcan Road
Open the gate to the red land
Alcan road, by the turquoise lake
Starry skies, a mushroom cloud
Folding waves - in a foamy tide
Washing in beds - of opal shells
white gulls cry - for you and I
butterflies - float away
drift over pools - of salt and clay
mountain man - frosted child
eagles cry - puppets of god
strung like time - molded in form
trees bend back - and trails distort
it leads to the land - of Alcan Road
the turquoise lake - and starry skies
mushroom clouds - folding waves
foamy tides - of salt and brine
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The heart of snow
the heart of snow
is a mirror whitened
by hands that know
a surface enlightened
the heart of snow
a feeble beat of time
of things that grow
in seeds of fragile rhymes
the heart of snow
bleeds the blood of white
for a lamb that knows
the edges of the light
the heart of snow
landscapes hurt the heart
in a death that blows
a flake's graceful art
the heart of snow
do not ever touch
up you will grow
and still know too much
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
First Snowfall
The last of autumn’s leaves begins assault
Of winter gales. The sap within the trees
In hibernating xylems call a halt
To most activity to some degree.
The birds that once resided amongst them
Already left for warmer spots unknown.
A few remain behind but are condemned
To weather winters snow and ice alone.
The snow begins to fall. At first, a flake,
Then more and more until the trees are white
And weighted. Branches, weak, begin to break
And fall to earth and soon are crowned despite
The slackened storm. The wind subsides and all
Is quiet and calmness follows the squall.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!