When Winter Comes

When winter comes into our lives
    With its uncertain sound,
To strip us of our warmth and joy,
    Our petals on the ground,
We may be tempted to give up;
    To fold beneath life's storm.
We may be tempted to forsake
    The hope which keeps us warm.
But, we must learn to stand up tall;
    To always face the sun
And patiently await the day
    When winter's work is done.
For winter winds will cease to howl,
    The snows will melt away,
Then we shall see the beauty of
    Another summer's day.
And we will have renewed our strength
    When summer's wind first blows,
For God will whisper once again
    The promise of a rose.

                  ~ Glenda Fulton Davis

Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl (Excerpts, Pt.1)

Dedicated to my snow-bound tweeps in the Eastern U.S.

The sun that brief December day
rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,--
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows:
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
The cock his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.

Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl
by John Greenleaf Whittier
(To be continued)