Poem by Eugene Gladstone O'Neill

To Winter

 "Blow, blow, thou winter wind."
     Away from here,
 And I shall greet thy passing breath
     Without a tear.

 I do not love thy snow and sleet
     Or icy flows;
 When I must jump or stamp to warm
     My freezing toes.

 For why should I be happy or
     E'en be merry,
 In weather only fitted for
     Cook or Peary.

 My eyes are red, my lips are blue
     My ears frost bitt'n;
 Thy numbing kiss doth e'en extend
     Thro' my mitten.

 I am cold, no matter how I warm
     Or clothe me;
 O Winter, greater bards have sung
     I loathe thee!

1. Even As a Child
2. A Regular Sort of a Guy
3. It's Great When You Get in
4. The Lay of the Singer's Fall
5. Villanelle of Ye Young Poet's First Villanelle to His Ladye and Ye Difficulties Thereof

Claude McKay To Winter ("Stay, season of calm love and soulful snows!")

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