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Ode to Winter...

#photographer on tumbr #original photographer #winter #ode to winter #nature

Ode To Winter

(last stanza)

But chiefly spare, O king of clouds! The sailor on his airy shrouds, When wrecks and beacons strew the deep And spectres walk along the deep. Milder yet thy snowy breezes Pour on yonder tented shores, Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes, Or the dark-brown Danube roars. O winds of Winter! list ye there To many a deep and dying groan? Or start, ye demons of the midnight air, At shrieks and thunders louder than your own? Alas! e'en your unhallow'd breath May spare the victim fallen low; But Man will ask no truce to death, No bounds to human woe.

—Thomas Campbell, Germany, December, 1800

Maddy Prior & June Tabor - Grey Funnel Line

#thomas campbell #ode to winter #maddy prior #june tabor #grey funnel line #exquisite harmonies #fave #♥♥♥

Ode to Winter #2

#ode to winter #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled poetry #fuck you winter

22 December 2017

Ode to Winter

We hoard light, hunkered in holt and burrow, in cave, cwtsh, den, earth, hut, lair. Sun blinks. Trees take down their hair. Dusk wipes horizons, seeps into the room, the last flame of geranium in the gloom. In the shortening day, bring in the late flowers to crisp in a vase, beech to break into leaf, a branch of lark. Take winter by the throat. Feed the common birds, tits and finches, the spotted woodpecker in his opera coat. Let’s learn to love the icy winter moon, or moonless dark and winter constellations, Jupiter’s glow, a slow, incoming plane, neighbourly windows,someone’s flickering screen, a lamp-lit page, drawn curtains. Let us praise intimacy, talk and books, music and silence, wind and rain, the beautiful bones of trees, taste of cold air, darkening fields, the glittering city, that winter longing, hiraeth, something like prayer. Under the stilled heartbeat of trees, wind-snapped branches, mulch and root, a million bluebell bulbs lie low ready to flare in lengthening light, after the dark, the frozen earth, the snow. Out there, fox and buzzard, kite and crow are clearing the ground for the myth. On the darkest day bring in the tree, cool and pungent as forest. Turn up the music. Pour us a glass. Dress the house in pagan finery.

~ Gillian Clarke

What do you most enjoy about indoor celebrations around this time of year? Which traditions are important to you?

Decorating the Christmas tree - it’s about nostalgia again, and finding the old decorations that have been around for as long as you have, and remembering where you bought the new ones, and who gave you that particular angel. Our Christmas tree lives in a pot outside apart from in December, and it’s grown this year so that we can’t fit the angel on the top. It’s resting on the uppermost boughs instead.

And it’s about lighting the fire, and eating mince pies and milled wine, spending time with family playing games, and resting and relaxing. Eating Christmas dinner - which always has to be huge, with the table practically groaning under the weight, your plate piled high, and ending with you drowsing on the sofa as you digest the goodness of food and family.

Presents - the giving just as much as the getting, seeing what other people have received, being grateful for what you have and how little you need. Catching up with friends. Opening advent calendars.

#janet morley #haphazard by starlight #poetry #gillian clarke #ode to winter #nostalgia #memory #christmas #winter

Why I love Winter

(Inspired by @kickthepj‘s Ode to Autumn)

Winter is the most magical time of the year. When all life goes into stasis and something brand new appears. When grey and rainy days of Autumn change into white and clean snowy wonderland.

I love how cold it gets. The lower the temperature is - the more reasons there are to stay at home, watch your favorite show on TV and drink some of that sweet cocoa that warms you up like nothing else in the entire world.

I love watching children play outside. They remind me of myself when I was their age. Oh how much fun we had back in the days during the snowball fights or building a snowman.

I love how Winter puts everything on "pause". Rivers, lakes, trees, birds - everything becomes still.

Except people.

People are constantly in a hurry. To finish all the preparations for the holidays. To buy presents for their loved ones. To buy all the groceries for a family dinner.

But some of them aren't. Some just like to take their time and enjoy the magic.

Winter is the most magical time. You can walk on streets and endlessly gaze at all the beautiful decorations everyone puts on their houses for Christmas. All the lights fill the streets with magic glow. And the carolers fill the air with joyful music spreading the good news - The Christ was born!

Winter inspires me. It gives everything a fresh start by covering everything in white snow. A clean sheet for nature. A clean sheet for me.

As the New Year approaches you get the chance to start again. To let go of all the negativity of the previous year leaving only good and bright memories.

And this is why I love Winter...

#winter #holidays #ode to winter

Ode to Winter

by T. Campbell Germany, December 1800 WHEN first the fiery-mantled Sun His heavenly race began to run, Round the earth and ocean blue His children four, the Seasons, flew. First, in green apparel dancing, 5 The young Spring smiled with angel-grace; Rosy Summer, next advancing, Rush'd into her sire's embrace— Her bright-hair'd sire, who bade her keep For ever nearest to his smiles, 10 On Calpe's olive-shaded steep Or India's citron-cover'd isles. More remote, and buxom-brown, The Queen of vintage bow'd before his throne; A rich pomegranate gemm'd her crown, 15 A ripe sheaf bound her zone. But howling Winter fled afar To hills that prop the polar star; And loves on deer-borne car to ride With barren darkness at his side, 20 Round the shore where loud Lofoden Whirls to death the roaring whale, Round the hall where Runic Odin Howls his war-song to the gale; Save when adown the ravaged globe 25 He travels on his native storm, Deflowering Nature's grassy robe And trampling on her faded form:— Till light's returning Lord assume The shaft that drives him to his northern field, 30 Of power to pierce his raven plume And crystal-cover'd shield. O sire of storms! whose savage ear The Lapland drum delights to hear, When Frenzy with her bloodshot eye 35 Implores thy dreadful deity— Archangel! Power of desolation! Fast descending as thou art, Say, hath mortal invocation Spells to touch thy stony heart? 40 Then, sullen Winter! hear my prayer, And gently rule the ruin'd year; Nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare, Nor freeze the wretch's falling tear; To shuddering Want's unmantled bed 45 Thy horror-breathing agues cease to lend, And gently on the orphan head Of Innocence descend. But chiefly spare, O king of clouds! The sailor on his airy shrouds, 50 When wrecks and beacons strew the steep, And spectres walk along the deep. Milder yet thy snowy breezes Pour on yonder tented shores, Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes, 55 Or the dark-brown Danube roars. O winds of Winter! list ye there To many a deep and dying groan? Or start, ye demons of the midnight air, At shrieks and thunders louder than your own? 60 Alas! ev'n your unhallow'd breath May spare the victim fallen low; But man will ask no truce to death— No bounds to human woe.

#ode to winter #palgrave treasury