"To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June."
-  Jean-Paul Sartre

"Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake."
   --Robert Louis Stevenson, Winter Time



S. Etole said…
such an apt description ...
Cath said…
Adore this. And all of your recent posts. Love you!
Melissa: said…
LOVE the quote and LOVE the Poem.

And I love the look of your glowing warm house...so inviting and cozy, nestled in the dark cold air.
Grandma Honey said…
Whew what a descriptive poem. Makes me want to stay indoors and just look through the window at all the winter beauty.
Katie said…
I agree. I am reading My Antonia for the third time right now. To me, the whole book is like poetry. I love it.

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