A Gentle Thaw Poem by Ernestine Northover

A Gentle Thaw

Rating: 4.7

Thick the mist at early morning's dawn,
Cold the chill that enters by the door,
White the frost, that lies, across the lawn,
Each one piercing, striking to the core
Of one's whole being. Then wakes the foggy morn,
Where sunshine will in time, melt frost on haw,
And rouse the sleeping field mouse in the corn,
By dripping water down upon his paw.
He'll scuttle off, expression all forlorn,
To leave the day to begin its gentle thaw.

© Ernestine Northover

Ray Andrews 02 February 2006

Another wonderful poem from Ernestine! Well done. Blessings from Ray.

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Michael Morris 05 February 2006

Superb, Ernestine! The first three lines chime in my mind like Anglo -Saxon poetry.Would that we all could refine our words in the fire of our intellect as you do.

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Eve Clements 06 February 2006

A beautiful, evocative piece of writing. I am so envious of your talent. Warmest regards, Eve

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Willow Moon Pearce 06 February 2006

Its a lovely poem Ernestine written by a lot of thought............regards........willow

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Scarlett Treat 08 February 2006

I was up this morning before the sun came up, so I got to watch this same frosty chill melt away! How wonderfully expressive you are.

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David Threadgold 27 September 2008

Hi Ernestine. How eloquently you describe the thaw, and how many times have we all experienced it in the chill of winter. a very pleasant read thankyou. Regards Dave T.

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Flora Gillingham 06 April 2008

What a gentle, classic piece. Lovely to read another rhymer! F

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Andrew Blakemore 25 February 2008

Beautifully written. I also like the rhyming structure of this work. Andrew x

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Ivor Hogg 31 December 2007

Evokes clear visuals in my mind I used to love early morning walks as dawn was breaking but my old bones bid me stay in the warm and remember what I ca no longer do

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Daphne Grant 06 October 2007

We have a lovely rythm going on in 'A gentle Thaw' with alternate rhymes some really intelligent poetry going on here. I'm just going to quote the last to lines to show you where this excellent work stumbles slightly And the remedy: He'll scuttle off, now the word scuttle has 2 syllables; so if we look at the line again, we can count the syllables He'll scuttle off, expression all forlorn, gives us 8 syllables (expression has 3.) Now we come to the last line the, which has 11 syables which very slightly upsets the balance. So if we write: To leave the day to start its gentle thaw. Then does the poem come right. I 'm only telling you this because I'm rather impressed with this poem. It has what I think is a lovely flow, and we don't want it to jar at the end. Now to sum up the whole poem - Well-done! It is by the way the nearest thing to real poetry I've seen on this site. Let me know what you think Daphne Grant

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