Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village
though;
He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And
miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
First Snow
by Marie Louise Allen
Snow makes whiteness where it falls. The bushes look like
popcorn-balls. And places where I always play,Look like somewhere else today.
They’ve All Gone South
by Mary Britton Miller
Redbird, bluebird, Bird with yellow mouth All the pretty little birds
Have flown away south, But the little dusty sparrow With his wings of
rusty brown For some peculiar reason Lingers in the town And little city
children Who wouldn’t know a robin From a cuckoo or a crow Will hear the
little sparrows Chirping in the snow.
When All the World Is Full of Snow by N. M. Bodecker
I never know just where to go, when all the world is full of snow.
I do not want to make a track, not even to the shed and back.
I only want to watch and wait, while snow moths settle on the gate, and
swarming frost flakes fill the trees with billions of albino bees.
I only want myself to be as silent as a winter tree,
to hear the swirling stillness grow, when all the world is full of snow.
Winter Moon
by Langston Hughes
How thin and sharp is the moon tonight!
How thin and sharp and ghostly white
Is the slim curved crook of the moon tonight!
