Winter is here And there are no leaves On the naked trees, Save stars twinkling As the wind blows. Soft to the branches The little screech-owl Silently comes, Silently goes, With weird tremolos. I would go out And gather the stars The wind shakes down, Were they not scattered So far in the West. I would go ask The little screech-owl If he finds ease There in his nest After his quest. I would go learn If the small grey mouse Who sets up house In the frozen meadow Dreams of the stars; Or what he thinks There in the dark When flake on flake Of white snow bars Him in with its spars. I would go out And learn these things, That I may know What dream or desire Troubles my brothers In nest or hole. For even as I, The owl and the mouse, Or blinded mole With unborn soul, May have some goal. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GIRLS' LOT by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS SCHUBERT'S (UNFINISHED) SYMPHONY by FRANCES BARTLETT THE CHRISTENING OF THE STADIUM by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE ON A PRESSED FLOWER IN MY CPOY OF KEATS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE MEMORY AND HOPE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING PARACELSUS: 3. PARACELSUS by ROBERT BROWNING ANNOUNCEMENT by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH THE SNAPPING OF THE BOW by JAMES DAVID CORROTHERS ODE ON TRUTH; ADDRESSED TO GEORGE DYER by ANNE BATTEN CRISTALL |