In the Bleak MidWinter....

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favour fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Good Hours

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.


Over the snow my creaking feet

Disturbed the slumbering village street

Like profanation, by your leave,

At ten o'clock of a winter eve.

To The Thawing Wind


Come with rain. O loud Southwester!

Bring the singer, bring the nester;

Give the buried flower a dream;

make the settled snowbank steam;

Find the brown beneath the white;

But whate'er you do tonight,

bath my window, make it flow,

Melt it as the ice will go;

Melt the glass and leave the sticks

Like a hermit's crucifix;

Burst into my narrow stall;

Swing the picture on the wall;

Run the rattling pages o'er;

Scatter poems on the floor;

Turn the poet out of door.

Poems by Robert Frost