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Before the Snow
by
Andrew Lang


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The winter is upon us, not the snow,
The hills are etched on the horizon bare,
The skies are iron grey, a bitter air,
The meagre cloudlets shudder to and fro.
One yellow leaf the listless wind doth blow,
Like some strange butterfly, unclassed and rare.
Your footsteps ring in frozen alleys, where
The black trees seem to shiver as you go.

Beyond lie church and steeple, with their old
And rusty vanes that rattle as they veer,
A sharper gust would shake them from their hold,
Yet up that path, in summer of the year,
And past that melancholy pile we strolled
To pluck wild strawberries, with merry cheer. 

This poem is in the public domain.

 

 

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Andrew Lang (1844-1912) was a Scottish scholar and writer and attended St. Andrews University. Though no particular one of his works ever garnered great acclaim, his total body of work was impressive. He is especially revered for his children’s fairy tales.

 

 

 

 

 

 


Post New Comment:
AllegraSilberstein:
This poem brings memories of Wisconsin winters.
Posted 12/28/2016 11:33 AM
Lori Levy:
I also liked the line about the footsteps in the frozen alleys.
Posted 12/28/2016 10:27 AM
blueskies:
Yes. Good picture poem. Thanks, Jayne
Posted 12/28/2016 09:00 AM
JanetruthMartin:
a perfect painting of earth before the snow. love it. esp this; 'Your footsteps ring in frozen alleys, where The black trees seem to shiver as you go.'
Posted 12/28/2016 05:12 AM


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