Winter Poems
for Kids
He started with a ball of snow
that grew into a boulder.
A carrot for his pokey nose,
a scarf around his shoulder.
He has a funny crooked smile
(a Red Delicious slice).
His body is compacted snow
as firm and cold as ice.
He stands guard outside our house:
he wears not pant nor belt.
He will stay until comes spring,
but then he’ll have to melt
for Kids
He started with a ball of snow that grew into a boulder. A carrot for his pokey nose, a scarf around his shoulder.
He has a funny crooked smile
(a Red Delicious slice). His body is compacted snow as firm and cold as ice. He stands guard outside our house:
he wears not pant nor belt. He will stay until comes spring, but then he’ll have to melt
Winter poem
When the geese are flying south
And the sky is grey, my dears,
Close your eyes and lift your nose;
Listen with your careful ears.
Feel the winter coming on;
Hear it in the crackling trees;
Note the crisping, quivering wind
Sharply snapping at their leaves
Schoolboys in Winter
by John Clare
The schoolboys still their morning ramble take
To neighboring village school with playing speed,
Loitering with passtime’s leisure till they quake,
Oft looking up the wild-geese droves to heed,
Watching the letters which their journeys make;
Or plucking haws on which their fieldfares feed,
And hips and sloes; and on each shallow lake
Making glib slides, where they like shadows go
Till some fresh passtimes in their minds awake.
Then off they start anew and hasty blow
Their numbed and clumpsing fingers till they glow;
Then races with their shadows wildly run
That stride huge giants o’er the shining snow
In the pale splendour of the winter sun.
robert frost winter poem
Winter’s Light
Winter’s light is pale and weak.
the sun has lost its might Day surrenders
early to the tyranny of night.
The icy winds wield daggers and
strip the trees quite hare Snow and
ice invade the land, subduing all that’s there.
The spark of life stays hidden.
beneath the frozen ground;
bouquets of color slumbering till springtime comes around.
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Winter Poem by Laurie Lee
“Tonight the wind gnaws with teeth of glass
The jackdaw shivers in caged branches of iron
The stars have talons
There is hunger in the mouth of vole and badger
Silver agonies of breath in the nostril of the fox
Ice on the rabbit’s paw
Tonight has no moon, no food for the pilgrim
The fruit tree is bare, the rose bush a thorn
And the ground is bitter with stones
But the mole sleeps and the hedgehog lies curled in a womb of leaves
And the bean and the wheat seed hug their germs in the earth
And a stream moves under the ice
Tonight there is no moon
But a star opens like a trumpet over the dead
And tonight in a nest of ruins the blessed babe is laid
And the fir tree warms to a bloom of candles
And the child lights his lantern and stares at his tinsel toy
And our hearts and hearths smoulder with live ashes
In the blood of our grief the cold earth is suckled
In our agony the womb convulses its seed
And in the last cry of anguish The child’s first breath is born”
Happy Winter Solstice!
winter poem for kids
Winter Dawn
by Amos Russel Wells
The trees are still; the bare cold branches lie
Against a waiting sky.
Light everywhere, but ghostly light that seems
The cast-off robe of dreams;
And everywhere a hush that seems to hark
At the doorway of the dark.
O fields, white-sheeted, desolate and dumb,—
If you knew what’s to come!
he flakes flutter down in their time honoured dance
Whilst in a child’s sheer excitement they look on so entranced
Parents reminded of a youth that is long missed
Nostalgic reminders of a home made sled piste.
Flakes landing silently, swirl as they fall
An identical carpet of colour for all
A wonderland of winter, we’ve waited all year
Wishing, Father Christmas, could be with us here.
Children filled with laughter, as snowball fights begin
Dads who join in secretly, hidden behind the bins
Others build a masterpiece, carrots begged from mum indoors
Gloves now wet and heavy from the snow that sets and forms.
Red noses and flushed faces, but no one seems to care
As sleds race down the nearest hill, the fastest speed they dare
Worries are forgotten, in a memory, old as time
As snow days make a person smile, bringing out their inner child.
All too soon the day will end, as families head for home
Hot chocolate with marshmallows, a tradition that has grown
Children are exhausted as they dozily walk to bed
Fast asleep and dreaming as soon as they lay their head.
Dreams of snow and laughter, replays behind closed eyes
Praying for another day of snow, be left behind.
The flakes are thick and heavy, as they set in for the night
Opening the curtains to a wonderland of white
Screams and shouts around the land as excitement knows no bounds
Making the most of these special times, with a carpet on the ground
short winter poem
Winter Twilight
by Bliss Carman
Full Text
Along the wintry skyline,
Crowning the rocky crest,
Stands the bare screen of hardwood trees
Against the saffron west,—
Its gray and purple network
Of branching tracery
Outspread upon the lucent air,
Like weed within the sea.
Midwinter Thaw
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Full Text
How shrink the snows upon this upland field,
Under the dove-grey dome of brooding noon!
They shrink with soft reluctant shocks, and soon
In sad brown ranks the furrows lie revealed.
From radiant cisterns of the frost unsealed
Now wakes through all the air a watery rune—
The babble of a million brooks atune,
In fairy conduits of blue ice concealed.
I love the mysterious beauty of horses.. and the wistful poetry of winter..This rhyme is not entirely about either ..
horsepoem
on a horse called winter
you ride inside me
wherever I move
you sing to me
of past and future journeys
that we travel together and alone
I love these adventures
and your eyes and seeing through them
all your futures are splendid
because of your courage
because of your heart
because of your loving
and how beautiful you are
as the bright wind parts your hair
as you ride onwards
on a horse called winter…
a winter poem
Winter
by Bliss Carman
When winter comes along the river line
And Earth has put away her green attire,
With all the pomp of her autumnal pride,
The world is made a sanctuary old,
Where Gothic trees uphold the arch of gray,
And gaunt stone fences on the ridge’s crest
Stand like carved screens before a crimson shrine,
Showing the sunset glory through the chinks.
There, like a nun with frosty breath, the soul,
Uplift in adoration, sees the world
Transfigured to a temple of her Lord;
While down the soft blue-shadowed aisles of snow
Night, like a sacristan with silent step,
Passes to light the tapers of the stars.
POEM OF A DOG
I’m the one who’s always waiting for you.
Your car has a special sound that I have imprinted on my senses, I can recognize it in a thousand.
Your steps have a magic bell.
Your voice is music to my ears.
If I see your joy, it makes me happy!.
Your scent is the best.
Your presence moves my senses.
Your waking up wakes me up
I contemplate you sleeping and for me you are my God, I am happy watching your sleep.
Your look is a ray of light.
Your hands upon me, hold the lightness of peace and the sublime display of infinite love.
When you leave, I feel a huge void in my heart.
I keep waiting for you again and again.
I am the one who will wait for you all your life today, tomorrow and forever:
I am your dog.
A Winter Landscape
by Mathilde Blind
Full Text
All night, all day, in dizzy, downward flight,
Fell the wild-whirling, vague, chaotic snow,
Till every landmark of the earth below,
Trees, moorlands, roads, and each familiar sight Were blotted out by the bewildering white.
And winds, now shrieking loud, now whimpering low,
Seemed lamentations for the world-old woe
That death must swallow life, and darkness light.
Memorize Poem
The Man With the Axe
by Horace Dumont Herr
Full Text
The Summer has come and the Summer is past,
And “the man with the hoe,” he is out of a job,
The pastures are bare and are swept by the blast,
And the cattle for grass must eat “corn on the cob,”
While scraggy-haired colts are turned out to the stalks,
But the woodman he whistles a tune as he walks.
The Summer brings harvest of oats and of wheat,
And the meadows are strewn with the fragrant new hay;
And Autumn gives apples, and pumpkin and beet,
And the fruits and the nuts make the gatherers gay;
But fruits for the cellar and wheat for the stacks
Have a rival in the harvest of the wood chopper’s ax.
winter poem robert frost
Poem for Today
Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winter
By Robert Frost
The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shoeing home across the white,
I thought I saw a bird alight.
In summer when I passed the place
I had to stop and lift my face;
A bird with an angelic gift
Was singing in it sweet and swift.
No bird was singing in it now.
A single leaf was on a bough,
And that was all there was to see
In going twice around the tree.
From my advantage on a hill
I judged that such a crystal chill
Was only adding frost to snow
As gilt to gold that wouldn’t show.
A brush had left a crooked stroke
Of what was either cloud or smoke
From north to south across the blue;
A piercing little star was through.
after the winter poem
“Good Hours” by Robert Frost
I had for my winter evening walk—
No one at all with whom to talk,
But I had the cottages in a row
Up to their shining eyes in snow.
And I thought I had the folk within:
I had the sound of a violin;
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.
I had such company outward bound.
I went till there were no cottages found.
I turned and repented, but coming back
I saw no window but that was black.
Over the snow my creaking feet
Disturbed the slumbering village street
Like profanation, by your leave,
At ten o’clock of a winter eve.
winter poem ideas
The winter solstice is in a few days so I wanted to post this Robert Frost poem. It is one that I have always enjoyed reading and I think this beautiful poem is perfect for this time of year.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep
You can read more:
Lines for Winter
Tell yourself as it gets cold and gray falls from the air that you will go on walking, hearing the same tune no matter where you find yourself- inside the dome of dark or under the cracking white of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow. Tonight as it gets cold tell yourself what you know which is nothing but the tune your bones play as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot go on or turn back and you find yourself where you will be at the end, tell yourself in that final flowing of cold through your limbs that you love what you are.
Behold my Breath In and out, fast or slow, I feel my breath, but can’t see it go When winter arrives my breath comes alive In and out, fast or slow, in the cold winter air, my breath is there to behold
Michele Meleen
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
The little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy lake.
The woods are lovely dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Winter Dark
A day becomes a night when winter comes again, Dark corners in no light when light is yellow fain. Each feeling will be so dark when night is in its still, with thoughts of deep spark in nighttime to fulfill.
A day becomes gray yellow in moods of many glow, deep of cold says hello in winters crystal snow. And light of stars are going into the deep of unknown, their distance times glowing of ways that are not shown.
A day becomes of cold where once there was spring, night frost themes unfold and days howls and sing. For now is winter blowing a song of night and frost, for time to winter is going when songs of summer are lost
Leaving Home on a Dark Winter’s Night
I need you, my Love. You’ve always been here, Like the stars on dark nights, Or that warm winter fire. But a black moon has risen, These flames are mere embers, That dark and lonely road Calls me forth, once more. These memories will remain. I’ll carry a hopeful torch, But this road is mine, And I must walk it alone. My mother once cried The day I left home, And I’m sorry you wept Those same somber tears. I promise to return, After my journey finds an end, To build a new hearth And stargaze in your arms.
At home in place, And at home in heart. Til then, this fire burns For as long as we’re apart.
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Hold my essence in your bare hands, Forget the woolly gloves – they blunt your senses, Touch me.
Though I will melt, do not despair: As I soften into your skin, we become one.
Feel my kisses melt into your soul As the snow on your tongue turns to liquid And the frozen stardust woven into your shawl As my final loving embrace.
WILLIAM COWPER. BORN, 1731; DIED, 1800.
A WINTER EVENING IN THE LIBRARY.
‘Tis winter, cold and rude, Heap, heap the warming wood; The wild wind hums his sullen song to-night, Oh, hear that pattering shower! Haste, boy!-this gloomy hour Demands relief; the cheerful tapers light. Though now my home around Still roars the wintry sound, Methinks ’tis summer by this festive blaze! My books, companions dear, In seemly ranks appear, And glisten to my fire’s far-flashing rays. * * * * * *
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round! And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, Which cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
The start of winter in the northern hemisphere occurs around December 21st, known as the winter solstice. It marks the shortest day and longest night of the year due to the Earth’s axial tilt away from the sun. As a result, the sun appears at its lowest point in the sky, leading to colder temperatures and shorter daylight hours.
Father Gilbert’s poem captures the essence of this transition into winter quite beautifully. The “icy glow of winter” suggests the cold and stark beauty that comes with the season. This time often evokes a sense of shivering, a physical reaction to the chill, but metaphorically, it can represent a moment of reflection and introspection.
The poem touches on the idea of purification, implying that the harshness of winter can cleanse and refine our desires. It’s a time when we reassess what we want and hope for in the future (“For what tomorrow may bring”) and perhaps find a way to let go of past regrets (“And nullifies all regrets Over yesterday”).
In the context of the first day of winter, this poem could be interpreted as a reminder that the seasonal shift brings a chance for renewal—a time to shed old burdens, embrace fresh aspirations, and approach the future with a cleansed perspective, just as the winter solstice marks a transition into a new cycle of seasons.
