Sunday, January 16, 2011

A January Morning / Archibald Lampman

A January Morning

The glittering roofs are still with frost; each worn
    Black chimney builds into the quiet sky
    Its curling pile to crumble silently.
Far out to westward on the edge of morn,
The slender misty city towers up-borne
    Glimmer faint rose against the pallid blue;
    And yonder on those northern hills, the hue
Of amethyst, hang fleeces dull as horn.
And here behind me come the woodmen's sleighs
    With shouts and clamorous squeakings; might and main
    Up the steep slope the horses stamp and strain,
Urged on by hoarse-tongued drivers — cheeks ablaze,
    Iced beards and frozen eyelids — team by team,
    With frost-fringed flanks, and nostrils jetting steam.

Archibald Lampman
from The Poems of Archibald Lampman, 1900

[Poem is in the public domaiin worldwide]

Archibald Lampman (by George Dance)

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