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The Beginning of Winter
by
W. M. MacKeracher


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Now are the trees all ruefully bereft
Of their brave liveries of green and gold,
No shred of all their pleasant raiment left
To shield them from the wind and nipping cold.
Now is the grass all withered up and dead,
And shrouded in its cerement of the snow;
Now the enfeebled Sun goes soon to bed,
And rises late and carries his head low.

Now is the night magnificent to view
When the Queen Moon appears with cloudless brow;
Now are our spirits cleans'd and born anew
In the clear, quickening atmosphere; and now
We re-make home, and find our hearts' desire
In common talk before the cheerful fire.


This poem is in the public domain.

 

 


William Mackay MacKeracher (1871-1913) was a Canadian poet. He composed his first poem at the age of twelve, was valedictorian of his college class at McGill University, and was a founding editor of that school's literary publication.

 


Post New Comment:
paradea:
Right on!!!
Posted 12/22/2018 06:01 PM
wordartdjc:
Very calm and beautiful poem for our winter peaceful days.
Posted 12/22/2018 04:22 PM
michael escoubas:
Simplicity is power! Great post, Jayne, for winter's first day.
Posted 12/22/2018 03:18 PM
Dorothy WildhagenD:
Very nice. Nostalgic.
Posted 12/22/2018 11:32 AM
cork:
Oh, the words and the rhymes of old!
Posted 12/22/2018 09:41 AM


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