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Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will read more
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.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale
and shabby, old and sullen.
Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale
and shabby, old and sullen.
Every mile is two in winter.
Every mile is two in winter.
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and read more
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou build thy dark,
Deep-founded read more
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou build thy dark,
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in
winter; the fleshy, in summer. I read more
The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in
winter; the fleshy, in summer. I should say winter had given the
bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and the blood.
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air,
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet,
His read more
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air,
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet,
His finger on all flowing waters sweet
Forbidding lay--motion nor sound was there:--
Nature was frozen dead,--and still and slow,
A winding sheet fell o'er her body fair,
Flaky and soft, from his wide wings of snow.
