NO SONGS IN WINTER - by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

 

 

NO  SONGS  IN  WINTER by Thomas Bailey Aldrich  The sky is gray as gray may be, There is no bird upon the bough, There is no leaf on vine or tree. In the Neponset marshes now Willow-stems, rosy in the wind, Shiver with hidden sense of snow. So too 't is winter in my mind, No light-winged fancy comes and stays: A season churlish and unkind. Slow creep the hours, slow creep the days, The black ink crusts upon the pen-- Just wait till bluebirds, wrens, and jays And golden orioles come again!

 

 

WINTER'S EMBRACE - by Patricia L. Cisco

 

WINTER'S  EMBRACE by Patricia L. Cisco  Shimmering lakes of silvery icewelcomes skaters' scarring slice.Hills adorned in lacy whitewatch children sleigh into the night.In the brilliant pristine light,snow birds in tall trees take flight.Evergreens draped in capes of snow,their heavy branches hanging low,blanket earth as north winds blow.Winter's dance is quite a show,an ice-kissed, dazzling, magical place,transformed by winter's cold embrace!

 

 

 

A BANDAID FOR THE WORLD - by Michele Meleen

 

A BANDAID  FOR  THE  WORLD  by Michele Meleen Snow is like a bandaid,waiting for the right moment,when you need it mostserving as a healing component. Snow is like a bandaid,it covers up Earth's wounds.While they sit, those wounds can healUntil life is ready to resume. Snow is like a bandaid,sticking to every inch of land.When it's ready to come off,some bits don't peel up easy as planned.

 

WINTER TIME - COLLAGE

 

 

 

SUMMER LOVE - by Tanja Cilia

SUMMER  LOVE by   Tanja Cilia  I close my eyesAnd feel your salty lipsI reach out my handsAnd hear your voiceMingle with the wavesLapping on the shore Memories lingerLike tenuous beads of crystal dewOn silk-strand cobwebsAnd beads of sea waterCaught in your hairAnd glinting in the sun Our love is the concentric ripplesOf pebbles lobbedAs we play ducks and drakesAnd our laughterEchoes across this cornerOf the Mediterranean Each grain of sandShimmering in the sunOn a halcyon dayIs a precious momentWe have sharedBasking in forever My love for youIs infinite as the horizonMy wishes, hopes, and dreamsAre sunbeams swirling and dartingAmidst spun sugar cloudsIn the aquamarine reflections on the sea You are all my tomorrowsI love you

 

 

THE WIND AND THE LEAVES - by George Cooper

 

THE  WIND  AND  THE  LEAVES  by George Cooper     "Come, little leaves," said the wind one day.     "Come o'er the meadows with me, and play'     Put on your dress of red and gold,     Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."     Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call,     Down they came fluttering, one and all;     Over the brown fields they danced and flew,     Singing the soft little songs they knew.     "Cricket, good-by, we've been friends so long;     Little brook, sing us your farewell song,     Say you are sorry to see us go;     Ah! you will miss us, right well we know."     "Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,     Mother will keep you from harm and cold;     Fondly we've watched you in vale and glade;     Say, will you dream of our loving shade ?"     Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went;     Winter had called them, and they were content.     Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,     The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

 

 

AUTUMN - by Aleksandr Pushkin

 

AUTUMN by  Aleksandr Pushkin (a fragment) "What then does not invade my drowsy mind?" (Derzhavin) 1 October's here already; the grove alreadyis shaking from bare branches its last leaves;the breath of autumn begins to ice the roadway,the stream still rushes gurgling past the mill,but the mill pond is frozen; my sporting neighbourhurries off with his pack to the far fields.The winter corn suffers his boisterous pleasure,his yelping hounds disturb the forest's slumber. 2 Now is my time. I bear no love for spring:the floods, the mud, the stink - I feel unhealthy,my blood ferments, longing chokes heart and mind.Better harsh winter; then I can feel happy,I love the snows, and then beneath the moonthe freedom of a sleigh ride, gliding swiftly,a fresh-faced girl, wrapped in sable furs,giving your hand a timid, passionate squeeze. 3 And what a joy to race across the mirrorof frozen ponds with sharp steel on your feet!And the excitement of those winter parties...!But there's a limit; the snow goes on for weeksand months, even a bear at length would sufferfrom boredom. After all, we can't devotea life to sleigh rides with these young Armidasor moping by the stove behind sealed windows. 4 Ah! gorgeous summer, I would love you, butthe heat, the dust, the flies, and the mosquitoes!You torture us; our souls, once rich, grow flat,we suffer like the barren fields, drought-stricken,just longing for some freshness, for a glass -that one thought fills our minds. We miss old winter,and having seen her off with cakes and wine,with ice and ice-cream we recall her reign. 5 People have harsh words for these days of autumn,but, reader, they are dear to me, I lovetheir unassuming light, their quiet beauty.Autumn attracts me like a neglected girlamong her sisters. And, to be quite honest,she is the only one that warms my heart.She has her good points; whimsically dreamingand free from vanity, I find her charms appealing. 6 How can I put it? She perhaps appealsas sometimes a young sufferer from consumptioncatches my eye. Unseen, her death awaits,and without protest, quietly she sickens;she cannot sense the yawning of the grave,but life fades from the lips that still are smiling;a rosy hue still plays around her eyes,today she is alive, tomorrow dies. 7 A mournful time of year! Its sad enchantmentflatters my vision with a parting grace -I love the sumptuous glow of fading nature,the forests clad in crimson and in gold,the shady coolness and the wind's dull roaring,the heavens all shrouded in a billowing mistand the rare gleams of sun, the early hoarfrosts,and distant grey-beard winter's gloomy portents. 8 Each autumn's coming makes me bloom anew;my health is well served by the cold of Russia;I feel a new love for the old routines,sleep has its turn, and after it comes hunger;the blood runs light and cheerful through the veins,desires flock in - happy again, and youthful,I'm full of life again - my organismis like that ( pardon my prosaicism). 9 Tossing his mane, my steed carries his riderover the open flatlands, and beneathhis glistening hooves he rouses up the echoesin frozen valleys and cracks the ringing ice.But then the short day fades, a fire blazesin the forgotten hearth, now casting a bright flame,now crumbling slowly, while I sit there readingor give my drifting thoughts their hour of freedom. 10 And I forget the world, in blissful peaceI am sweetly lulled by my imagination,and poetry awakens in me then;my soul, hard pressed by lyric agitation,trembles, resounds and seeks as if in sleepto surface finally in free expression -and I receive a host of guests unseen,old-time acquaintances, fruits of my dreams, 11 And in my head thoughts spring into existence,and rhymes dance out to meet them, and the handstretches toward the pen, the pen to paper,and verse comes unimpeded pouring out.So a ship, motionless in motionless water,lies dreaming, then suddenly the sailors raceand climb aloft, wind swells the sails, the vesselmoves slowly out, bow cutting through billows, 12 and sails away. Where shall we sail to ...?  Translated from Russian by Peter France

 

 

AUTUMN RAIN - by Mary T. Lathrap (1838-1895)

 

AUTUMN  RAIN by  Mary T. Lathrap (1838-1895) There's a sad, sad voice in the autumn rain, Mournful rain; As it beateth slowly against the pane, Window pane. And the wind sings by with a conscious breath, And seems like a messenger whispering death, As the flowers bend with a drooping eye- Bend and die.   What gives such a sadness unto the rain ? Autumn rain; For it sobs like a human heart in pain, A heart in pain; Does it know its drops with a chilly tread Lie cold on the beauty that now is dead ? Does it know the beautiful must decay ? Passing away.   Sure the summer rain had a merry tone, A laughing tone; Its patter made melody all its own, Yes, all its own; The flowers looked up when it came from the skies, And the drops for mischief fell right in their eyes, And sparkled in brightness like mimic tears, Joyful tears.   Then tell me, why is it this autumn rain, Mournful rain, Chills my very heart as it sweeps the pane ? Dripping pane. Is it that it sighs o'er a summer fled, O'er the graves where more than flowers lie dead; Is it that memory lendeth a strain To the sobbing rain ?   O where are the hopes of the bright spring tide ? Sweet spring tide. With the summer blossoms they too have died, Yes, they have died. They have fled away; will their bloom come back ? Will they bless again as I tread life's track ? Or, by and by on some other shore Bloom evermore ?   Sob on, it is well, - O passionate rain; 'T is well, O rain, Tho' the flowers now faded may bloom again, Will bloom again; Some things that have died with the summer's light, Some things that have fled with the summer's flight, Will never, no, never, come back again, Sob on, O rain !

 

 

THE BRASS LOCUST - by Jane Tyson Clement

 

THE  BRASS  LOCUST by   Jane Tyson Clement So now again the tide wanes and the airis rich with what would rather be forgotten;and hard on the moving, on the changing windthe eternal locust sounds its sharp despair:the rasp of autumn and the rasp of heat,metal of prophecy but not of peace,awl in the ear to make us bondsmen here,brand in the flesh of mind; under the beatof sun, of light rain, of the dazzling earthwe lose the visioned, the encompassing eye;the brass of locust boring in the noonspeaks for the alien and the coming dearth:the unwise lift their heads, remembering cold,regathering wisdom, as the sun grows old.

 

FALL HAS ARRIVED - by Lauren M.

 

FALL  HAS  ARRIVED  by  Lauren  M. The gush of wind blew my hair,Straight up to the unforgiving air.Fall was peaking around the trees,Leaves would pile high,soon up to my knees.Hello orange, yellow, and red,Goodbye green,Bye-bye June, July, and August,Hello Autumn.The warmth is gone and won the wind.

 

 

AUTUMN MEMORIES - by Anajo

AUTUMN   MEMORIES  by  Anajo  The rose weeps a tearFor the close of the year.Leaves whisper the turnWhile bonfires burnTheir memories of kinder times.And swallows yearn for warmer climes. Spring hopes are flayedAs bitter winds lashFalse memories.Promises madeBlacken to ash. They shiver and weep,Fearing winter's long sleep.

 

 

AUTUMN LEAVES - by Edel T. Copeland

 

AUTUMN  LEAVES by   Edel T. Copeland Golden, crisp leaves falling softly from almost bare trees,Lifting and falling in a hushed gentle breeze.Slowly dropping to the soft cushioned ground,Whispering and rustling a soothing sound. Coppers, golds, and rusted tones,Mother Nature's way of letting go.They fall and gather one by one,Autumn is here, summer has gone. Crunching as I walk through their warm, fiery glow,Nature's carpet rich and pure that again shall grow.To protect and shield its majestic tree,Standing tall and strong for the world to see. They rise and fall in the cool, crisp air.It's a time of change in this world we share,Nature's importance reflecting our own lives,Letting go of our fears and again, too, we shall thrive.