When the landscape is decorated in soft layers of ice crystals, it’s like a touch of natural magic. Everything looks different, and it feels as if anything is possible. Today's blog post comes from a very snowy South England, where the wintry weather in the woods reminds me of one of my favourite poems by Robert Frost.
Here are four poems, including Robert Frost’s masterpiece, that capture the mystery and wonder a little snow can bring. The photos were all taken this morning, and as you can see, my cat was happy to come exploring too! Thank you very much for visiting my blog today, and I hope you enjoy the poetry π.
Writing update: Lost in
Magic is going well. Kellan is getting himself into a whole lot of trouble
though!
It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster
wool
The wrinkles of the road.
It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain,
—
Unbroken forehead from
the east
Unto the east again.
It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by
rail,
Till it is lost in
fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil
― Emily Dickinson
Snowflakes spill from heaven’s hand
Lovely and chaste like
smooth white sand.
A veil of wonder laced in
light
Falling Gently on a
winter’s night.
Graceful beauty raining
down
Giving magic to the
lifeless ground.
Each snowflake like a
falling star
Smiling beauty that’s
spun afar.
Till earth is dressed in
a robe of white
Unspoken poem the hush of
night
― Linda A. Copp
Winter is the king of showmen,
Turning tree stumps into
snow men,
And houses into birthday
cakes,
And spreading sugar over
lakes.
Smooth and clean and
frosty white,
The world looks good
enough to bite.
That’s the season to be
young
Catching snowflakes on
your tongue.
― Ogden Nash
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.
― Robert Frost
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