Here’s a part of a poem about the snow by the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
SNOWFLAKES
Out of the Bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow,
Descends the snow.
I feel the first verse stands beautifully on its own and this is how I found it in an old children’s book. The poem gets more melancholy as it proceeds. Here’s the full poem with a recording:
Snow-flakes
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
Photos of Snowflakes by William Bentley, one of the first photographers of snowflakes circa 1885.
This article was posted on Monday, December 27th, 2010 at 9:00 pm and is filed under Countries & Cultures, England, English, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Languages, Poems about Snow, Poems about Winter, Poetry, Poetry about the Seasons, Poetry about the Weather, Poets, Seasonal, Snowflakes, USA, Winter, winter. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.
Leave a Reply
