Poem of the Month: Winter

A different poem featured each month to introduce you to the magic of C.J. Dennis

NOW golden days of autumn are no more.
Down on the forest ruthless Winter frees–
First with far rumblings, waxing to a roar–
His shouting winds that riot thro’ the trees,
Raging like savage seas.
Bedraggled now the gown this garden wore;
Lost are those evanescent gems she bore;
Lost, half the melodies.
A grey thrush, every morn hops round the door,
His wise head cocked inquiringly aslant;
Magpie and robin, these are shy no more,
And every songster, as his fare grows scant,
Becomes a mendicant.
Small their demands upon the larder’s store
On these dark, sodden days or mornings hoar,
Cruel to bird and plant.
A strange and ghostly silence came last night,
After the wind’s wild clamour and the rain;
And now, at dawn, a coverlet of white
Swathes many a long, fantastic forest lane
And unfamiliar plain.
Beneath the burden spar and sapling slight
Bow down, revealing many a vista bright
In this once green domain.
The silence shouts in this new, muffled world
After the tempest’s nerve-destroying din . . .
Here, like three pixies, impudently curled
In a giant’s pallet, sheets up to each chin,
Three pert violas grin . . .
The forest is a lady richly pearled,
Else a white penitent in pure robes furled,
And newly cleansed of sin.