Poetry Friday

I've had picture books on the brain a lot recently, for a number of different reasons. Partly because I'm driving out tonight to pick up my favorite picture book of all time (The Library by Sarah Stewart and David Small) that I ordered from my local bookstore. Second because of my children's book blog. The third reason I hope to tell you about soon but I'm trying hard not to write or think about at the moment.

We also had our first real taste of snow yesterday and today I just want to hibernate. I was reminded last night how much I hate winter. When the snow starts to fly I just want to stay indoors, curl up under a blanket, read, sip cocoa, and hibernate. What better way to do that than with a poem about both picture books and winter.

Picture-Books in Winter
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer fading, winter comes—
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.

Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.

All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.

We may see how all things are,
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.

How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?

Poetry Friday

No politics this week. In fact something a little tamer. With Christmas only a week away I thought I would do something seasonal. I looked for something to do with the solstice. That is my favorite part of this holiday. I traditionally celebrate the solstice because I know that after it comes the lengthening days. Similarly I become depressed at the summer solstice, knowing that they sunlight will never be longer than it is now. And each year this repeats.

But I haven't found any Solstice poems that I like and I love the simple cadence and sweetness of Robert Louis Stevenson's poetry. Yes this is the same Robert Louis Stevenson who wrote Treasure Island and Dr. Jekyl and Mr Hyde. But no menace or dasterdy pirates here. Just sweetness. Enjoy!


Winter-Time
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding-cake.