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"Blow, blow, thou winter wind."
Away from here,
And I shall greet thy passing breath
Without a tear.
I do not love thy snow and sleet
Or icy flows;
When I must jump or stamp to warm
My freezing toes.
For why should I be happy or
E'en be merry,
In weather only fitted for
Cook or Peary.
My eyes are red, my lips are blue
My ears frost bitt'n;
Thy numbing kiss doth e'en extend
Thro' my mitten.
I am cold, no matter how I warm
Or clothe me;
O Winter, greater bards have sung
I loathe thee!
Eugene O'Neill
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Read poems about / on: winter, weather, snow, kiss, happy, red, wind
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Comments about this poem (To Winter
by
Eugene O'Neill
) |
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Eugene O'Neill
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Jim Troy
(2/19/2008 6:44:00 AM) |
Thanks for the nice sharing
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