Winter Rain / Christina Rossetti

Winter Rain 

Every valley drinks,
     Every dell and hollow:
Where the kind rain sinks and sinks,
     Green of Spring will follow.

Yet a lapse of weeks
     Buds will burst their edges,
Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks,
     In the woods and hedges;

Weave a bower of love
     For birds to meet each other,
Weave a canopy above
     Nest and egg and mother.

But for fattening rain
     We should have no flowers,
Never a bud or leaf again
     But for soaking showers;

Never a mated bird
     In the rocking tree-tops,
Never indeed a flock or herd
     To graze upon the lea-crops.

Lambs so woolly white,
     Sheep the sun-bright leas on,
They could have no grass to bite
     But for rain in season.

We should find no moss
     In the shadiest places,
Find no waving meadow grass
     Pied with broad-eyed daisies:

But miles of barren sand,
     With never a son or daughter,
Not a lily on the land,
     Or lily on the water.

~~
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
from Goblin Market,  and other poems, 1862

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide.]

Christina Rossetti biography

"Winter Rain" read by Kate Sandison.

There's a certain slant of light / Emily Dickinson

There's a certain slant of light 

There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,–
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 'tis like the distance
On the look of death.

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

from Poems, 1891

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emily Dickinson biography

"There's a certain slant of light" read by Vanessa Redgrave. Courtesy The Poetry Hour.

A Holiday / Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Holiday

The Wife:
The house is like a garden,
The children are the flowers,
The gardener should come methinks
And walk among his bowers.
Oh! lock the door on worry
And shut your cares away,
Not time of year, but love and cheer,
Will make a holiday.

The Husband:
Impossible! You women do not know
The toil it takes to make a business grow.
I cannot join you until very late,
So hurry home, nor let the dinner wait.

The Wife:
The feast will be like Hamlet
Without a Hamlet part:
The home is but a house, dear,
Till you supply the heart.
The Xmas gift I long for
You need not toil to buy;
Oh! give me back one thing I lack -
The love-light in your eye.

The Husband:
Of course I love you, and the children too.
Be sensible, my dear, it is for you
I work so hard to make my business pay.
There, now, run home, enjoy your holiday.

The Wife (turning):
He does not mean to wound me,
I know his heart is kind.
Alas! that man can love us
And be so blind, so blind.
A little time for pleasure,
A little time for play;
A word to prove the life of love
And frighten care away!
Tho' poor my lot in some small cot
That were a holiday.

The Husband (musing):
She has not meant to wound me, nor to vex -
Zounds! but 'tis difficult to please the sex.
I've housed and gowned her like a very queen
Yet there she goes, with discontented mien.
I gave her diamonds only yesterday:
Some women are like that, do what you may.

~~
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)
from Poems of Purpose, 1916

[Poem is in the public domain wordwide]

Ella Wheeler Wilcox biography

"A Holidy" read by Aimee. Courtesy Aimee Reads Poetry.

As impercepibly as Grief / Emily Dickinson

[1540]

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away —
Too imperceptible, at last
To seem like Perfidy —

A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon —

The Dusk drew earlier in —
The Morning foreign shone —
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace
As Guest that would be gone —

And thus without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emily Dickinson biography

"As imperceptibly as Grief" read by Iain McGilchrist. Courtesy channelmcgilchrist.com.

Also read: 2 poems on summer's end

The Conjurer / George J. Dance

The Conjurer

   First I will conjure autumn,
   To turn the green to brown.
The birds and beasts shall disappear
   And every leaf drop down.

   Then I will conjure winter,
   To turn the brown to white,
To lock you in a frozen waste
   Of dark, deep, deadly night,

   Surrounded by the blackness,
   The only living thing;
Till you repent, and call to me,
   And I will conjure spring.

~~
George J. Dance, 2017

[All rights reserved - used with permission]

George J. Dance biography

It sifts from Leaden Sieves / Emily Dickinson

It sifts from Leaden Sieves —
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road —

It makes an Even Face
Of Mountain, and of Plain —
Unbroken Forehead from the East
Unto the East again —

It reaches to the Fence —
It wraps it Rail by Rail
Till it is lost in Fleeces —
It deals Celestial Vail

To Stump, and Stack — and Stem —
A Summer’s empty Room —
Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,
Recordless, but for them —

It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
As Ankles of a Queen —
Then stills its Artisans — like Ghosts —
Denying they have been —

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emily Dickinson biography

"It Sifts from leaden Sieves" read by Jonathan Jones.

The Winters are so short / Emily Dickinson

The Winters are so short –
I'm hardly justified
In sending all the Birds away –
And moving into Pod –

Myself – for scarcely settled –
The Phoebes have begun –
And then – it's time to strike my Tent –
And open House – again –

It's mostly, interruptions –
My Summer – is despoiled –
Because there was a Winter – once –
And all the Cattle – starved –

And so there was a Deluge –
And swept the World away –
But Ararat's a Legend – now –
And no one credits Noah –

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emily Dickinson biography

"The Winters are so short" courtesy The Orchard Enterprises.

A Light exists in Spring / Emily Dickinson

       
A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope we know
It almost speaks to me.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emily Dickinson biography