The poems which are available for the season of cold which gives us a roam through which we can better understand our feelings and emotions. Winter season is called as a season of love because in this season the feelings of sharing love are getting increased. We can make this scenario more loving and more romantic by sharing winter poems with our loved ones because they are the people we love them so much.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind.
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not.
——
Winter
Winter is snowy and cold season.
Christmas is in winter.
Winter is when you get out for Christmas break.
Winter is when you have hot chocolate with
marshal mallows.
Winter is the season for colds and sinus problems.
Winter is when you have snow days.
Winter is when you wrap up in your
favorite warm blanket.
Winter is like a very white Christmas, very wonderful.
Winter is wonderful season.
Winter is fun season because you can play in the snow.
——
Winter
Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Unearthly white.
Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.
——
The Snowman
Roll a snowball large,
Then one of middle size.
Roll a snowball small,
Use lumps of coal for eyes.
Place a carrot for a nose,
And old hat on his head.
And for his necktie, tie around
His neck a ribbon red.
A corncob pipe goes in his mouth,
Some buttons on his vest.
And there he stands so round and fat,
Of snowmen, he’s the best!
——
A Winter Pond
Sting-chill of winter matt –
Her frozen hand caressed us all;
And calming bleach of silence
Pressed upon the rustic scape
To leave an ashen underbelly –
Once raging summer chroma.
Even Winter’s gelid lungs laboured
Under heavy drag of flakes –
Their pilgrimage: to stay a deadened floor
In crunch-white peace.
And round about, the weight of time
Collapsing under Winter’s drag –
Transmutes to grey: it’s three o’clock –
No lights pricking black out here! –
Even the night globe,
The Great Reflector – stonewalled;
Camouflaged by lead-laden cloud
Lolling in the claustrophobic noon.
At ground, a farm pond –
Seized in a dark hiatus –
Offered up repentance –
Why, it dared to harbour life!
I forgave it in my desperate gaze
Upon the crazy-paving surface,
That sealed in the black-chill temperature,
Where at bottom, something nithered
Still survived.
——
Falling Snow
See the pretty snowflakes
Falling from the sky;
On the wall and housetops
Soft and thick they lie.
On the window ledges,
On the branches bare;
Now how fast they gather,
Filling all the air.
Look into the garden,
Where the grass was green;
Covered by the snowflakes,
Not a blade is seen.
Now the bare black bushes
All look soft and white,
Every twig is laden,
What a pretty sight!
——
O winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath rear’d his sceptre o’er the world.
Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal’st
With storms, till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.
——
Winter’s love
Winter, has the charm of life,
Winter, is like my wife.
Winter is my love,
Winter is my dream of always ”wow”
I always wait for winter like its friend,
the trees in winter always bend, having its branches like the ghosts arms.
they are my always my eye’s charms.
do you love winter as i do?
——
Spring and Winter
WHEN daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!–O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!–O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
——
Summer fading, winter comes–
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children’s eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies’ looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
——
The Snow Storm
The cold gray curtain of the clouds
The face of midnight darkly shrouds,
And hides the brilliant orbs that shine
In splendid forms round Dian’s shrine.
Behold its folds the looms of air
A spotless robe for Earth prepare;
The crystal shuttles swiftly go,
And weave the woof of virgin snow.
T is done; the fleecy robe is made,
And o’er Earth’s naked bosom laid,
Which fairy hands have gently spread,
With softened grace, where’er we tread.
Peace o’er the mystic scene doth lie;
Apollo opes his golden eye;
Backward the dusky curtains roll,
And lo, reveal the splendid whole!
O beauteous Earth! fantastic groves,
With glittering towers and white alcoves,
And miracles of splendor glow,
In bold relief, of spotless snow.
Ye Genii of imperial Rome,
Whose glories crown her spire and dome,
Here might ye bow at Nature’s shrine,
And study scenes by hands divine.
——
I died in pure pure white snow
Icy hands
Icy toes
Frozen tear decorated my cheeks,
Like crystal clear beads
Always cold
Always alone
