Wednesday, December 17, 2008


Cold Outdoors, Warm Indoors

Robert Louis Stevenson, Winter:
In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
The redbreast looks in vain
For hips and haws,
Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane
The silver pencil of the winter draws.

When all the snowy hill
And the bare woods are still;
When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs,
And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire,
Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs -
More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire!
Charles Burchfield, Frosted Windows

Related posts:

<< Home
Newer›  ‹Older

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?