THE WINTER SCENE

I

The rutted roads are all like iron; skies

Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling
In the bare woods, or the hardy bitter-sweet;
Drivers have put their sheepskin jackets on;
And all the ponds are sealed with sheeted ice
That rings with stroke of skate and hockey-stick,
Or in the twilight cracks with running whoop.
Bring in the logs of oak and hickory,
And make an ample blaze on the wide hearth.
Now is the time, with winter o'er the world,
For books and friends and yellow candle-light,
And timeless lingering by the settling fire.
While all the shuddering stars are keen with cold.

II

 

Out from the silent portal of the hours,

When frosts are come and all the hosts put on

Their burnished gear to march across the night

And o'er a darkened earth in splendor shine,

Slowly above the world Orion wheels

His glittering square, while on the shadowy hill

And throbbing like a sea-light through the dusk,

Great Sirius rises in his flashing blue.

Lord of the winter night, august and pure,

Returning year on year untouched by time,

To hearten faith with thine unfaltering fire,

There are no hurts that beauty cannot ease,

No ills that love cannot at last repair,

In the victorious progress of the soul.

]

~ Bliss Carman (1861 - 1929) Canadian poet.  SANCTUARY, SUNSHINE HOUSE SONNETS, The Winter Scene.
McClelland & Stewart 1929

Tomorrow:  Bliss Carman biography

 



WILD GEESE

 

To-night with snow in the November air,

Over the roof I heard that startling cry

Passing along the highway of the dark~

The Wild Geese going South.  Confused commands

As of a column on the march rang out

Clamorous and sharp against the frosty air.

And with an answering tumult in my heart

I too went hurrying out into the night

Was it from some deep immemorial past

I learned those summoning signals and alarms,

And still must answer to my brothers' call?

I knew the darkling hope that bade them rise

From Northern lakes, and with courageous hearts

Adventure forth on their unchartered quest.

 

~Bliss Carman (1861 - 1929) Canadian Poet Laureate/ SANCTUARY SUNSHINE HOUSE SONNETS McClelland & Stewart 1929

 

 



At Cottonwood Mansion

 

Shirley Otterman   Norma Mowat   Harold Schaus

 

Thank you, Norma Mowat & Harold Schaus Canadian veterans, for your service 

 

Corporal Harold Schaus poses with his son, Ken Schaus

LEST WE FORGET

 

IN FLANDERS FIELDS

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

 

We are the Dead.  Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

 

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch, be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

 

~ Lt. Col. John McCrae, Canadian army doctor.

 November 11, 1918 the war finally ended

 

 

 

 

One of the best-loved children's classics is The Wind in the Willows

"This has been a wonderful day!" said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again.  "Do you know I've never been in a boat before in all my life."
   "What?" cried the Rat, open-mouthed:  "Never been in a boat ~ you never ~ well I  ~ What have you been doing, then?"
   "Is it so nice as all that?"  asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
   "Nice?  It's the only thing,"  said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke.  "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing ~ absolutely nothing ~ half so much worth doing as  simply messing about in boats.  Simply messing,"  he went on dreamily:  "messing~about~in~boats;  messing~"
   "Look ahead, Rat!" cried the Mole suddenly.
  It was too late.  The boat struck the bank full tilt.  The dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.
   "~about in boats~or with boats," the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh.
   "In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter.  Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it.  Whether you get away, or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not.  Look here!  If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?"

~ Kenneth Grahame (1859 - 1932)  created  the adventures of Ratty, Mole, Badger & Toad for his nightly bedtime stories with his only son, Alastair.  The stories were published in 1908.

PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER

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.

~ Robert Louis Stevenson (Nov. 13, 1850 - Dec. 3, 1894)  Scottish novelist, poet.