Explore "Woods in Winter" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When winter winds are piercing chill, / And through the hawthorn blows the gale, / With solemn feet I tread the hill, / That overbrows the lonely vale.
O'er the bare upland, and away / Through the long reach of desert woods, / The embracing sunbeams chastely play, / And gladden these deep solitudes.
Where, twisted round the barren oak, / The summer vine in beauty clung, / And summer winds the stillness broke, / The crystal icicle is hung.
Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs / Pour out the river's gradual tide, / Shrilly the skater's iron rings, / And voices fill the woodland side.
Alas! how changed from the fair scene, / When birds sang out their mellow lay, / And winds were soft, and woods were green, / And the song ceased not with the day!
But still wild music is abroad, / Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; / And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, / Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear / Has grown familiar with your song; / I hear it in the opening year, / I listen, and it cheers me long.