Monday Morning Poem: Snow


by Walter de la Mare

No breath of wind,
No gleam of sun –
Still the white snow
Whirls softly down
Twig and bough
And blade and thorn
All in an icy
Quiet, forlorn.
Whispering, rustling,
Through the air
On still and stone,
Roof, – everywhere,
It heaps its powdery
Crystal flakes,
Of every tree
A mountain makes;
‘Til pale and faint
At shut of day
Stoops from the West
One wint’ry ray,
And, feathered in fire
Where ghosts the moon,
A robin shrills
His lonely tune.

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3 thoughts on “Monday Morning Poem: Snow

  1. Thanks for sharing this poem–I am hacking my way through John Milton’s abridged version of “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity.” Why? I love metaphor and myth. Happy New Year and I’m glad I chanced on your blog.

  2. “No breath of wind,
    No gleam of sun –”

    whiteness of winter! beautiful

  3. This is beautiful, although I think the folks in the East are having too much of a good thing at the moment.

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