Sara Teasdale’s speaker faces the arrival of winter with calm resignation. The shorter days, weak sun, fallen leaves, and first frost mean the world’s brightness will disappear, and she does not fight that loss. There is even a strange peace in it: the soft sound of snow, empty branches, and trees coated in ice become a quiet, glittering landscape. She chooses to stay inside by the fire, warm and withdrawn, rather than be tempted outdoors. At night, the glow of an ember feels like companionship. The final line deepens the mood: she will “make my life of what I can remember.” That is bittersweet—less about despair than about turning inward, holding onto memory when the outer world has gone cold and bare. The overall feeling is solitary, still, and gently elegiac.
Winter — Summary
I shall have winter now and lessening days, Lit by a smoky sun with slanting rays, And after falling leaves, the first determined frost. The colors of the world will all be lost. So be it; the faint buzzing of the snow Will fill the empty boughs, And after sleet storms I shall wake to see A glittering glassy plume of every tree. Nothing shall tempt me from my fire-lit house, And I shall find at night a friendly ember And make my life of what I can remember.