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I grew up in New Hampshire. My closest neighbor was a mile away. The deer and the raccoons were my read more
I grew up in New Hampshire. My closest neighbor was a mile away. The deer and the raccoons were my friends. So I would spend time walking through the woods, looking for the most beautiful tropical thing that can survive the winter in the woods in New Hampshire.
Every mile is two in winter.
Every mile is two in winter.
Yet all how beautiful! Pillars of pearl
Propping the cliffs above, stalactites bright
From the ice roof read more
Yet all how beautiful! Pillars of pearl
Propping the cliffs above, stalactites bright
From the ice roof depending; and beneath,
Grottoes and temples with their crystal spires
And gleaming columns radiant in the sun.
And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.
And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.
Winter is the season in which people try to keep the house as warm as it was in the summer, read more
Winter is the season in which people try to keep the house as warm as it was in the summer, when they complained about the heat.
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for read more
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.
When now, unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts and groves dismantled roar;
Around their read more
When now, unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts and groves dismantled roar;
Around their home the storm-pinched cattle lows,
No nourishment in frozen pasture grows;
Yet frozen pastures every morn resound
With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground.
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a read more
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay--
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.