John Greenleaf Whittier ~

"Snow-Bound"

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.

~ ~ ~

to view this poem

[written

by

John Greenleaf Whittier]

in 

its entirety

please visit

here

~ ~ ~

this

is not

a black and white

photo

it is the color

of

the day