Winter

Walter de la MareContemplative

Clouded with snow The cold winds blow, And shrill on leafless bough The robin with its burning breast Alone sings now.

The rayless sun, Day's journey done, Sheds its last ebbing light On fields in leagues of beauty spread Unearthly white.

Thick draws the dark, And spark by spark, The frost-fires kindle, and soon Over that sea of frozen foam Floats the white moon.

Walter de la Mare

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The cold blow,
And shrill on bough
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