Quote, December 5, 2010

ejmoore510(7)December 5, 2010

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.

Woods in Winter by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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coconut_nj

Love that poem. I had to put my shawl on though. Chilly words.

    Bookmark   December 5, 2010 at 12:29PM
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mawheel

The "chill airs and wintry winds" are sure in evidence, today. The wind is NNW at 15-20 mph, the temp. hasn't reached 35 degrees, and the wind chill makes it feel--I don't know what--but it's cold. Still, I'll take it over 95 degrees and humid! (I know, You may think I'm crazy, but "different strokes for different folks".) :>)

    Bookmark   December 5, 2010 at 1:41PM
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lilod(NoCal/8)

I think I lived in California too long, it's hard for me to visualize the words. We do get snow, but it doesn't last long and gets to be a dripping mess rather then icicles and our summer brown (golden) grass turns green in winter. Still, winter it is, days are short and the air is chilly.

    Bookmark   December 5, 2010 at 2:01PM
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anneliese_32(6)

Marda, you are not alone. I am the oddball here who is not complaining when the temps go below freezing and can't wait for the snow.

    Bookmark   December 6, 2010 at 7:56AM
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west_gardener

I love that poem, and I can identify with it at some level. Longfellow writes about the sounds of winter, but my favorite sounds of winter is quiet. It is standing in a Norwegian wood, when the snow has fallen and for a few moments, it is so quiet that I can hear my heart beating, the pulse in my ears are loud.

    Bookmark   December 6, 2010 at 9:16PM
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