Winter Poems by Stevenson, Emerson, and Hardy

Thrushes in winter.

Thrushes in winter.

Sometimes a poem evokes the mood of a season more than anything else could. Here are three of my favorites for winter. The first, “Picture-books in Winter” by Robert Louis Stevenson, paints a lyrical picture of the joys of reading in a cozy nursery as the outside world grows frosty. The second poem, “The Snow Storm” by Ralph Waldo Emerson, vividly shares the “tumultuous privacy” and “frolic architecture” of a snow storm. The final poem is “The Darkling Thrush” by Thomas Hardy, which reveals the power in “the full-hearted evensong / Of joy illimited” from an aging thrush.

Each of these lovely pieces provides a different way of looking at winter and appreciating its beauty. One way to help your students absorb the equisite intricacy of poetic language is to have them copy their favorite poems into a notebook. This is also a good way to begin memorizing a poem for recitations. Enjoy!

Picture-books in Winter

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer fading, winter comes-
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.

Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.

All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children’s eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.

We may see how all things are,
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies’ looks,
In the picture story-books.

How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?

The Snow Storm

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come see the north wind’s masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

The Darkling Thrush

by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

Summer Poem: A Boy and His Dad by Edgar Guest

Fishing on the RiverIt’s time for our annual summer poem. This year, I chose a warm, evocative poem by Edgar A. Guest, the author of many home- and family-focused poems. If you have boys, I think you’ll especially enjoy this, particularly if you’ve read and enjoyed John Eldredge’s Wild at Heart and Fathered by God.

In a different vein, I also included a brief poem by William Carlos Williams. Be sure to notice how he creates a whimsical, yet thoughtful mood using just a few carefully chosen words. Enjoy!

A Boy and His Dad
by Edgar Guest

A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip-
There is a glorious fellowship!
Father and son and the open sky
And the white clouds lazily drifting by,
And the laughing stream as it runs along
With the clicking reel like a martial song,
And the father teaching the youngster gay
How to land a fish in the sportsman’s way.

I fancy I hear them talking there
In an open boat, and the speech is fair.
And the boy is learning the ways of men
From the finest man in his youthful ken.
Kings, to the youngster, cannot compare
With the gentle father who’s with him there.
And the greatest mind of the human race
Not for one minute could take his place.

Which is happier, man or boy?
The soul of the father is steeped in joy,
For he’s finding out, to his heart’s delight,
That his son is fit for the future fight.
He is learning the glorious depths of him,
And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim;
And he shall discover, when night comes on,
How close he has grown to his little son.

A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip-
Builders of life’s companionship!
Oh, I envy them, as I see them there
Under the sky in the open air,
For out of the old, old long-ago
Come the summer days that I used to know,
When I learned life’s truths from my father’s lips
As I shared the joy of his fishing-trips.

Summer Song
by William Carlos Williams

Wanderer moon
smiling a
faintly ironical smile
at this
brilliant, dew-moistened
summer morning,-
a detached
sleepily indifferent
smile, a
wanderer’s smile,-
if I should
buy a shirt
your color and
put on a necktie
sky-blue
where would they carry me?

Our Summer Poem: The Summer Rain by Henry David Thoreau

The Summer Rain by Henry David Thoreau

Think cool thoughts on this steamy summer day!

Think cool thoughts on this steamy summer day.

My books I’d fain cast off, I cannot read,
’Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper target. Read more

“The Schoolboy”- A Summer Poem by William Blake

It’s been awhile since I posted a poem, but when I heard someone talking about doing school through summer, I just had to post this one! Enjoy!

The proper joys of summer.

The proper joys of summer.

I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!

But to go to school in a summer morn, —
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.

Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.

How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring!

O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay, —

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?

From Songs of Experience, 1794

Requiem for Clue- A Very Old Dog: 1996-2009

Today we said good-bye to dear old friend. It’s never easy, and I’ll miss his ancient tottering steps following me through the house from dawn to dark. Today is the first time I’ve sat in my office chair, without needing to stay still in order to not roll over his old paws. Read more

“Gratefulnesse”- A Poem of Thanksgiving & A Recipe

This is my favorite Thanksgiving poem, and if you have been with me for many years, you know that you’ll receive it each year as my Thanksgiving “article.” It is a poem of grace and beauty, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

GRATEFULNESSE

by George Herbert (1593- 1633)

Thou that hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful heart.
See how thy beggar works on thee
By art.

He makes thy gifts occasion more,
And says, If he in this be crossed,
All thou hast given him heretofore
Is lost.

But thou didst reckon, when at first
Thy word our hearts and hands did crave,
What it would come to at the worst
To save.

Perpetual knockings at thy door,
Tears sullying thy transparent rooms,
Gift upon gift, much would have more,
And comes.

This not withstanding, thou wenst on,
And didst allow us all our noise:
Nay thou hast made a sigh and groan
Thy joys.

Not that thou hast not still above
Much better tunes, than groans can make;
But that these country-airs thy love
Did take.

Wherefore I cry, and cry again;
And in no quiet canst thou be,
Till I a thankful heart obtain
Of thee:

Not thankful, when it pleaseth me;
As if thy blessings had spare days:
But such a heart, whose pulse may be
Thy praise.

Our Favorite Thanksgiving Recipe

Fresh Cranberry-Orange Relish

2 bags fresh cranberries (frozen is okay)

3 juicy Valencia oranges, unpeeled, cut in eighths

2-3 handfuls of shelled walnuts

Sugar to taste

Chop or grind the cranberries and orange pieces in a food processor or old-fashioned crank-type food grinder. Chop the walnuts with a knife (definitely not the food processor– trust me on this) and add to the fruit. Add about a cup of sugar to start, stir, and keep adding sugar until it’s perfect. It’s good when made the day before, as the flavors blend nicely. If you do this, you’ll need to keep it out of sight, or you may have a problem with poachers. Whatever you call it, it’s been a family favorite ever since I can remember pouring berries through the grinder when I was a little girl. Yum!

Here’s a link to my Black Friday Clearance Sale!

Veterans’ Day 2008- The Soldier by Robert Frost

The Soldier

by Robert Frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.

Freedom is never free.

I‘m thankful for all those who have shared in the mission of keeping our country safe, and those who have served on the home front. This poem is shared in memory of my father, who served, and was a POW, in WWII, as well as others who never came back.

Announcements

Have you visited the Never-Ending Book Quiz? Stop by GoodReads to test your knowledge of books and literary analysis. This is not only fun, but just a wee bit educational.

An Autumn Poem for Copywork

I believe that Charlotte Mason’s method for teaching language arts provides an excellent foundation for future language arts learning. Copywork is the step that begins the process of learning to write. First, read the entire poem aloud, using appropriate inflection. Practice ahead of time, if necessary!

Students of any age can use copywork to practice the mechanics of writing and to internalize the sound and rhythm of the written word. For young students, copy up to four lines of the poem on wide-ruled paper, skipping a line between each line you use. Be sure to use your best handwriting style, whether printing or cursive, and space the letters evenly. This will be your student’s model, so make it as beautiful as you can.* Read more

Summertime- Blake, Rilke, Sandburg, Shakespeare

Summer has begun– a slower, sweeter time of year for many families. I enjoy each month of the year as it arrives, but the lushness of summer greens is a special delight. Each time I pick roses, I gather a variety of lovely foliage to complement them- hostas, crimson barberry, several types of ferns, a bit of lemon balm for extra fragrance, and whatever else strikes my fancy. The cool green, gray, and burgundy shades frame the lush roses beautifully. Roses, like most stars, are loveliest with a supporting cast!

It’s time for summer poems, and I’ve tried to choose three you may not know, plus a Shakespearean sonnet that always rewards another reading. These are lovely for copywork, or simply for reading and savoring. Enjoy!

To Summer by William Blake
O thou who passest thro’ our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched’st here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair. Read more

TV Turnoff Week: Fast, Cheap, & Easy Life Enhancement!

Why not live a little this week? The Center for Screen Time Awareness is once again sponsoring the ever-timely TV Turnoff Week. Pointing out that “television cuts into family time, harms our children’s ability to read and succeed in school, and contributes to unhealthy lifestyles and obesity” (though otherwise, it’s not so bad?!), the Center suggests that during the week of April 21-27, families keep the television OFF.

They suggest that “Turning off the television gives us a chance to think, read, create, and do. To connect with our families and engage in our communities. To turn off TV and turn on life.” We always learn more when we choose to do and be, rather than sit and stare.

If your family usually watches a ball game, try playing a game outside. If you enjoy cooking shows, try cooking instead! If your children like to watch cartoon, introduce them to the comics, and try drawing a few. Do and be, don’t sit and stare! The key is to live, rather than watching someone else pretend to live. Read more

Next Page →