February / H. Cordelia Ray

February

    The icicles upon the pane
    Are busy architects; they leave
What temples and what chiseled forms
    Of leaf and flower. Then believe
That though the woods be brown and bare,
    And sunbeams peep through cloudy veils,
Though tempests houwl through leaden skies,
    The Springtime never fails!

~~
H. Cordelia Ray (1852-1916)
from Poems, 1910

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

H. Cordelia Ray biography

Alexandr frolov, Frost on window, 2011. CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons.

February / Walter Thornbury

February

Acabashi, Copped Hall, Epping UK. 2019. 

CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons.

The time when skies are free from cloud,
Though still the robin whistles loud
    In the bare garden croft,
The catkin, on the hazel tree,
Mistakes for summer flower the bee,
    And round it hovers oft.

Winter's last sigh, from frozen north,
Withers the flower that ventures forth;
    And there is wanting still
The unseen warmth, the mellow note
Of the wild bird with dappled coat,
    Though faster flows the rill.

When, from his winter home, the snake
Creeps stealthy through the withered brake,
    And thoughtless of the past,
The young leaves open overhead,
Though still their fathers, sere and dead,
    Are hurried by the blast.

~~ 

Walter Thornbury (1826-1876)
from Lays and Legends; or, Ballads of the New World, 1851

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Walter Thornbury biography

February Rain / Charles Dazey

February Rain

O lonely day! No sounds are heard
    Save winds and floods that downward pour,
And timid fluting of a bird,
    That pipes one low note o'er and o'er.

Before the blast the bare trees lean,
    The ragged clouds sail low and gray,
And all the wild and wintry scene
    Is but one blur of driving spray.

O day most meet for memories,
    For musing by a vacant hearth
On that which was and that which is,
    And those who walk no more on earth!

And yet this dark and dreary day
    Some brighter lesson still can bring,
For it is herald of the May,
    A faint foretoken of the spring.

Beneath the ceaseless-beating rain
    Earth's snowy shroud fast disappears,
As sorrow pressing on the brain,
    Fades in a flood of happy tears.

And thus in darkness oft is wrought,
    Through lonely days of tears and grief,
The gradual change by which is brought
    To shadowed lives some sweet relief.

~~
Charles Dazey (1855-1938)

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Charles Dazey biography

Bailiwick Studios, Rain Puddles, 2016. CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons

February Gems / Allen R. Darrow

February Gems

To wondering children in the ages old,
I've often heard that mystic tales were told
Of fairy lands, where oft on trees and bowers
There fell from heaven pure crystal gems in showers.
Well, I believe, and so I think must you
That myths are shadows sometimes of the true;
For going forth upon a winter morn
A wondrous glory did the day adorn,
On every tree along the city street,
What matchless splendor did my vision greet.
Pendant from silver-coated branch and stem,
In argent beauty hung a brilliant gem;
Sparkling in candescent glory bright,
Shone myriad diamonds in the morning light.
Nature from its exhaustless wealth and store,
Through every street and by-way o'er and o'er,
Prodigal alike to all the rich and poor
Had scattered rivals to the Khoinoor.

~~
Allen R. Darrow (1826-1926)
from Iphigenia, and other poems, 1888

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Allen R. Darrow biography

Andre Cotaroba, Ice Storm in Kentucky, 2009. CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commons

To Helen / Edgar Allan Poe

To Helen

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-Land!

~~

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), 1839

from The Raven, and other poems, 1845

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Edgar Allan Poe biography

"To Helen" read by Christopher MacInttyre. Music: "Gymnopedia No. 1" by Erik Satie

In Memory of a Happy Day in February / Anne Brontë

In Memory of a Happy Day in February

Blessed be Thou for all the joy
        My soul has felt to-day!
Oh, let its memory stay with me,
        And never pass away!

I was alone, for those I loved
        Were far away from me;
The sun shone on the withered grass,
        The wind blew fresh and free.

Was it the smile of early spring
        That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet; but neither sun nor wind
        Could cheer my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight
        All vague and undefined?
No; 'twas a rapture deep and strong,
        Expanding in the mind.

Was it a sanguine view of life,
        And all its transient bliss,
A hope of bright prosperity?
        Oh, no! it was not this.

It was a glimpse of truth divine
        Unto my spirit given,
Illumined by a ray of light
        That shone direct from heaven.

I felt there was a God on high,
        By whom all things were made;
I saw His wisdom and His power
        In all his works displayed.

But most throughout the moral world,
        I saw his glory shine;
I saw His wisdom infinite,
        His mercy all divine.

Deep secrets of His providence,
        In darkness long concealed,
Unto the vision of my soul
        Were graciously revealed.

But while I wondered and adored
        His Majesty divine,
I did not tremble at His power:
        I felt that God was mine;

I knew that my Redeemer lived;
        I did not fear to die;
Full sure that I should rise again
        To immortality.

I longed to view that bliss divine,
        Which eye hath never seen;
Like Moses, I would see His face
        Without the veil between.

~~
Anne Brontë (1820-1849)
from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, 1846

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Anne Brontë biography

Albert Marquet  (1875–1947), Woman in Blue, La Frette, Winter, 1940 (detail). 

Pujblic domain. Wikimedia Commons

Winter Ghost (Taking a Time Out) / Will Dockery

Winter Ghost (Taking a Time Out)

I woke up the next morning
with freeze frame memories
locked the door to my room

Stepped out of the
creepy boarding house
into that February gloom

Walked across the park
to that little creek.
I saw Paige across the way
roller skating on the ice.

I had an awareness
of her copper colored eyes.

"Winter Ghost" by P.D. Wilso, 1986

 

interlude

from the days of love and rage.
She smiles through the mist
she turns the page.

It was cold
the sky was grey
I lit my pipe
there was a little spark of flame.

Paige skated over
and sat next to me
by that old abandoned train.

We talked of airwaves and poetry
and a mansion on the hill.

But now everything's changed
I don't even know how
I guess I never will.

Taking a time out
from the love and rage
Paige waves sideways
as she skates away
she turns the page.

It's been forty years now
I went back
and retraced my steps

Walked by and looked
where the old boarding house was
there was nothing of it left.

I walked across the park
to that little creek
I sat down under
that same old tree.
I felt a little tingle
in the air,
I felt like her ghost
was sitting there with me.

Interlude
from the days of love and rage.

Paige smiles at me
through the mist
like a winter ghost
then she fades away.

~~
Will Dockery, 2020
from Shadowville Mythos

[All rights reserved - used with permission]

Will Dockery biography

February / James Berry Bensel

February

Around, above the world of snow

The light-heeled breezes breathe and blow;
Now here, now there, they whirl the flakes,
And whistle through the sun-dried brakes,
Then, growing faint, in silence fall
Against the keyhole in the hall.

Then dusky twilight spreads around,
The last soft snowflake seeks the ground,
And through unshaded window-panes
The lamp-rays strike across the plains,
While now and then a shadow tall
Is thrown upon the white washed wall.

The hoar-frost crackles on the trees,
The rattling brook begins to freeze,
The well-sweep glistens in the light
As if with dust of diamonds bright;
And speeding o'er the crusted snow
A few swift-footed rabbits go.

Then the night-silence, long and deep,
When weary eyes close fast in sleep;
The hush of Nature's breath, until
The cock crows loud upon the hill;
And shortly through the eastern haze
The red sun sets the sky ablaze.

~~
James Berry Bensel (1856-1886)

from Golden Treasury of Poetry, 1959

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

James Berry Bensel biography

February Days / Ellwood Roberts

February Days

The icy northern blast sweeps by,
    From wild wastes of the Arctic snow;
Above us droops a wintry sky,
    A bleak white landscape lies below.
But, 'neath the chilly Polar blast,
    A low, sweet undertone I hear:
"The wintry storms will soon be past,
    And pleasant Spring-time days are near."

In Winter's stern and icy grasp,
    Are river, pond, and rill, to-day;
Like iron bonds his fetters' clasp,
    Like despot's rule his frosty sway.
But only yesterday I heard —
    Though all the landscape was so drear —
The sweet voice of a lonesome bird:
    "The Spring-time days will soon be here."

The air is icy, keen and chill,
    All Nature lies in sleep profound,
That seems like death—so cold, so still —
    But flowers are biding underground.
The sun mounts up, from day to day,
    His beams each morn more full of cheer.
And to our hearts they seem to say:
    "The Spring-time days will soon be here."

The ice and snow will soon be gone,
    The Spring-time waits the sun's warm rays,
Already we can trace the dawn
    Of brighter, warmer, sweeter days.
Each morn we watch for signs of Spring,
    Each evening feel its coming near.
All Nature's voices seem to sing:
    "The Spring-time days will soon be here."

And though an Arctic wind sweeps by
    From wildest wastes of ice and snow,
And though above us wintry sky,
    And desolate white fields below —
Beneath the wind's wild organ-blast,
    A low, sweet undertone I hear:
"The wintry storms will soon be past,
    The sunny Spring-time days are near."

~~
Ellwood Roberts (1846-1921)
From Lyrics of Quakerism, and other poems, 1895

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellwood Roberts biography

Vyacheslav Argenberg, Don River in Ice, Rostov, 2012. CC BY 4.0, Wikimedia Commons

February's featured poem

   

The Penny Blog's featured poem for February 2023:

To February, by Ethelwyn Wetherald

https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2012/02/february-ethelwyn-weatherald.html

Penny's Top 20 / January 2023

                      

Penny's Top 20

The most-visited poems on  The Penny Blog in January 2023:

  1.  Episode of a Night in May, Arthur Symons

  2.  The Winter Scene, Bluss Carman

  3.  Bird Cage, Hector de Saint Denys Garneau

  4.  Esthetique du Mal, Wallace Stevens

  5.  Winter, Walter de la Mare
  6.  At the New Year, Kenneth Patchen
  7.  A Winter Day, Lucy Maud Montgomery

  8.  Winter Sketch, Rockcliffe, Ottawa, Anne Wilkinson
  9.  Braggart, Dorothy Parker

10.  Skating, William Wordsworth

11.  The Key, George J. Dance
12.  The Brook in February, Charles G.D. Roberts
13.  The Snow Man, Wallace Stevens

14.  Ancient Music, Ezra Pound
15.  New Year's Eve, Charles G.D. Roberts 
16.  Vowels, Arthur Rimbaud
17.  January, H. Cordelia Ray

18.  Penny, or Penny's Hat, George J. Dance
19.  Dust of Snow, Robert Frost

20. January, Ruby Archer

Source: Blogger, "Stats"