January 9, 2015

O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire, What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn Of death!

—Helen Hunt Jackson


January 2, 2015

The door was shut, as doors should be, Before you went to bed last night; Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, And left your window silver white.

—Gabriel Setoun


December 26, 2014

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson


December 19, 2014

Mirth, full of joy as summer bees, Sits there, its pleasures to impart, And children, ‘tween their parent’s knees, Sing scraps of carols o’er by heart.

—John Clare


December 12, 2014

The lamps are burning in the synagogue, In the houses of study, in dark alleys . . . This should be the place. This is the way.

—Charles Reznikoff


December 5, 2014

On a clear winter’s evening The crescent moon And the round squirrels’ nest In the bare oak Are equal planets.

—Anne Porter


November 28, 2014

The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk!  he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation.

—Walt Whitman


November 21, 2014

Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!

—John Greenleaf Whittier


November 14, 2014

We lie on the cold sand and it embraces us, this beach where locals never go in summer and boast of their absence.

—Marge Piercy


November 7, 2014

How silently they tumble down And come to rest upon the ground To lay a carpet, rich and rare, Beneath the trees without a care.

—Elsie N. Brady


October 31, 2014

On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon.

—Carl Sandburg


October 24, 2014

Poor little Ada Queetie She used to do everything I told her, Let it be what it would, And knew every word I said to her.

—Nancy Luce


October 17, 2014

Wild geese stir in the early morning calm With a ripple of their wake. Far off, near the shore’s arm of dune that holds the pond, A kayak glides.

—Margaret Howe Freydberg


October 10, 2014

Smooth reflections of rock and tree, And out past the narrows a glimpse of sea? While I, of the scene a conscious part, Have a harbor for all in my welcoming heart.

—Charles Wharton Stork


October 3, 2014

It’s all a farce, — these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o’er field and dell, Because the year is dying.

—Paul Lawrence Dunbar


September 26, 2014

The milkweed pods are breaking, And the bits of silken down Float off upon the autumn breeze Across the meadows brown.

—Cecil Cavendish


September 19, 2014

I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.

—Nathaniel Hawthorne


September 12, 2014

Under a blue cloud-ruffled sky, Dense trees along the banks, And a fellow with a red bandana Sitting in a small, green Flat-bottom boat Holding the thin whip of a pole.

—Billy Collins


September 5, 2014

Among the first we learn is good-bye, Your tiny wrist between Dad’s forefinger And thumb forced to wave bye-bye to Mom, Whose hand sails brightly behind a windshield.

—Julia Spicher Kasdorf


August 29, 2014

Across the evening sky all the birds are leaving But how can they know it’s time for them to go? Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming.

—Sandy Denny


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