Winter is, we hope, all but over ... yesterday we had snow, and tomorrow the temperatures here in NoVa will approach a wonderfully springlike 70 (21 degrees Celsius for those of you in other lands). Winter has its own magic, though, however much we hate shoveling snow and driving on treacherous roads ... the beauty of a great expanse of unbroken snow, with the sun sparkling on its surface like diamonds, and of trees outlined in glittering white against a blue sky, almost makes up for the other miseries the season brings.
Today's poem by Richard Wilbur uses one of the traditional symbols of winter - the snowman - to talk to us about love and fear.
Boy at the
Window
by Richard Wilbur
by Richard Wilbur
Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise.
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise.
The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.
Have a good day. Stay warm, and come back tomorrow for Musical Monday. More thoughts then.
Bilbo
So touching!
ReplyDeleteReally something to think about! A nice poem for the season.
ReplyDeleteApril may be the cruelest month, but March is up in there.
No snowmen here today. 50 degrees now, heading for 60.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is so touching!
ReplyDelete