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Poem by Henry Alford


Winter


Had I the wondrous magic to invest
Ideal forms in colour, I would paint
Thee, winter, first, by an ideal saint
Deep in his beads: on his bare ribs should rest
A cross of lichened boughs: and duly pressed
Each morn by horny knees, one for each bone,
There should be two round hollows in the stone,
Whither his bent limbs should be half addressed.

And in the entry of the holy cave
Where the same saint should sit, a laughing boy,
Naked, and all aglow with play and joy,
Should peer full slily on that father grave,
In the full blessedness of childhood's morn,
And laugh his crusty solitude to scorn.



Henry Alford

Poem Theme: Winter

Henry Alford's other poems:
  1. Sunset at Burton Pynsent, Somerset
  2. Mendip Hills over Wells
  3. You and I
  4. Summit of Skiddaw, July 7, 1838
  5. August 19, 1830


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Robert Southey Winter ("A wrinkled crabbed man they picture thee")
  • Samuel Johnson Winter ("No more the morn with tepid rays")
  • Dante Rossetti Winter ("How large that thrush looks on the bare thorn-tree!")
  • William Morris Winter ("I am Winter, that do keep")
  • William Shakespeare Winter ("When icicles hang by the wall")
  • Charles Mackay Winter ("When the tempests fly")
  • George Russell Winter ("A DIAMOND glow of winter o’er the world")
  • Robert Burns Winter ("THE wintry wast extends his blast")
  • Janet Hamilton Winter ("Loud blaw the wild an' wintry win's")
  • Anne Hunter Winter ("Behold the gloomy tyrant’s awful form")
  • John Lapraik Winter ("STERN Winter comes, with threat’ning frown")
  • Edith Nesbit Winter ("HOLD your hands to the blaze")
  • Archibald Lampman Winter ("The long days came and went; the riotous bees")

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