January Greetings on Friday the 13th :)

Hello everyone –

Quotemail begins another year with some poems pertaining the January, the winter season, and the calendar, too!

“A Calendar of Sonnets: January”

By Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

 

O Winter! Frozen pulse and heart of fire,

What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn

Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn

Of death! Far sooner in Midsummer tire

The streams than under ice. June could not hire

Her roses to forego the strength they learn

In sleeping on thy breast. No fires can burn

The bridges thou dost lay where men desire

In vain to build. O Heart, when Love’s Sun goes

To northward, and the sounds of singing cease,

Keep warm by inner fires, and rest in peace.

Sleep on content, as sleeps the patient rose.

Walk boldly on the white untrodden snows,

The Winter is the Winter’s own release.

 

“Songs of Winter Days: IV”

By George MacDonald (1824-1905)

 

A morning clear, with frosty light

From sunbeams late and low;

They shine upon the snow so white,

And shine back from the snow.

 

Down tusks of ice one drop will go,

Nor fall: at sunny noon

‘Twill hang a diamond-fade, and grow

An opal for the Moon.

 

And when the bright sad Sun is low

Behind the mountain-dome,

A twilight wind will come and blow

Around the children’s home,

 

And puff and waft the powdery snow,

As feet unseen did pass;

While, waiting in its bed below,

Green lies the summer grass.

 

“Woods in Winter”

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(1807-1882)

 

When winter winds are piercing chill,

  And through the hawthorn blows the gale,

With solemn feet I tread the hill,

  That overbrows the lonely vale.

O’er the bare upland, and away

  Through the long reach of desert woods,

The embracing sunbeams chastely play,

  And gladden these deep solitudes.

Where, twisted round the barren oak,

  The summer vine in beauty clung,

And summer winds the stillness broke,

  The crystal icicle is hung.

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs

  Pour out the river’s gradual tide,

Shrilly the skater’s iron rings,

  And voices fill the woodland side.

Alas! How changed from the fair scene,

  When birds sang out their mellow lay,

And winds were soft, and woods were green,

  And the song ceased not with the day!

But still wild music is abroad,

  Pale, desert woods! Within your crowd;

And gathering winds, in hoarse accord,

  Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs and wintry winds! My ear

  Has grown familiar with your song;

I hear it in the opening year,

  I listen, and it cheers me long.

 

Numa Pompilius, the second King of Rome (reigned 715-673 BCE, at left) visits the Greek philosopher Pythagoras (at right) in Croton, Italy. Numa reformed the ancient Roman calendar so that January became the first month of the year, whereas previously the year had begun in March. (Image Credit: Public Domain – 18^th Century French Painting)

 

“Thirty Days Hath September”

(Anonymous – Traditional Rhyme of Lore)

 

Thirty days has September,

April, June, and November,

All the rest have thirty-one,

Save February at twenty-eight,

But leap year, coming once in four,

February then has one day more.

 

“The Months”

By Sara Coleridge (1802-1852)

 

January brings the snow,

Makes our feet and fingers glow.

February brings the rain,

Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes loud and shrill,

Stirs the dancing daffodil.

April brings the primrose sweet,

Scatters daises at our feet.

May brings flocks of pretty lambs,

Skipping by their fleecy dams.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,

Fills the children's hand with posies.

Hot July brings cooling showers,

Apricots and gillyflowers.

August brings the sheaves of corn,

Then the harvest home is borne.

Warm September brings the fruit,

Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

Fresh October brings the pheasants,

Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast,

Then the leaves are whirling fast.

Chill December brings the sleet,

Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.

 

Happy Friday the 13^th! 😊

 

Rob