Snow Poems - Poems For Snow

Snow poems from famous poets and best snow poems to feel good. Most beautiful snow poems ever written. Read all poems for snow.

A Patch Of Old Snow - Poem by Robert Frost

There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten --
If I ever read it.

Comments about A Patch Of Old Snow by Robert Frost

  • Rookie faygoot (12/12/2018 8:19:00 AM)

    i shidded and farded and camed in the macaroni salad Already Reported Reply

    4 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • Rookie Sans undertule (12/12/2018 8:16:00 AM)

    The birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming, i said im already tracer so, .. play some fortnite. Wellllll i think your a spoiled brat (Report) Reply

    Rookie faygoot (12/12/2018 8:20:00 AM)

    im gonna shidd and fard and camed in your macaroni salad

    | Delete this reply
    5 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie Meme hi (10/23/2018 9:48:00 AM)

    I hate this poem it sucks so mush (Report) Reply

    Rookie Vikrant (1/27/2020 6:20:00 AM)

    Oh ya, have you done any poems? Rubbish comments!

    | Delete this reply
    4 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Rookie Blahhh (9/11/2018 4:45:00 PM)

    So delicate and nice and wonderful (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Rookie Melody (5/27/2018 6:05:00 PM)

    I love this it’s one of my favorites I didn’t like how it was read on the audio though. (Report) Reply

    7 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Rookie Lexie (3/2/2018 3:37:00 PM)

    not the best poem but I will give him some credit for ryming (Report) Reply

    4 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Rookie Patricia Grantham (2/3/2018 6:40:00 PM)

    Short but full of emotions. Love it. (Report) Reply

    7 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Rookie Geoff (1/14/2018 1:34:00 PM)

    this is NOT a poem LOL (Report) Reply

    7 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Rookie loler123 (11/17/2017 1:25:00 PM)

    I dont get how its a poem (Report) Reply

    6 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 456 Points Sreelakshmi J (4/1/2017 7:43:00 AM)

    It's short and indeed sweet. (Report) Reply

    6 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
Read all 23 comments »
Snow Poems
  1. 1. A Patch Of Old Snow
    Robert Frost
  2. 2. Snow
    David Berman
  3. 3. Shoveling Snow With Buddha
    Billy Collins
  4. 4. Dust Of Snow
    Robert Frost
  5. 5. Snow
    Louis Macneice
  6. 6. Neither Snow
    Billy Collins
  7. 7. Snow Day
    Billy Collins
  8. 8. The Snow Man
    Wallace Stevens
  9. 9. The Snow Fairy
    Claude McKay
  10. 10. A March Snow
    Ella Wheeler Wilcox
  11. 11. Snow
    Walter de la Mare
  12. 12. Patterns In The Snow
    Ernestine Northover
  13. 13. Mad As The Mist And Snow
    William Butler Yeats
  14. 14. The Chimney Sweeper: A Little Black Thin..
    William Blake
  15. 15. First Snow
    Matsuo Basho
  16. 16. Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs
    Anne Sexton
  17. 17. Hunters In The Snow
    William Carlos Williams
  18. 18. The Snow Storm
    Edna St. Vincent Millay
  19. 19. Snow
    Edward Thomas
  20. 20. The Snow-Storm
    Ralph Waldo Emerson
  21. 21. The Faun Sees Snow For The First Time
    Richard Aldington
  22. 22. From "Snow-Bound," 11:1-40, 116-154
    John Greenleaf Whittier
  23. 23. Snow
    Jay M. McCabe
  24. 24. The Snow Is Melting
    Kobayashi Issa
  25. 25. Snow Song
    Sara Teasdale
  26. 26. Writing Shit About New Snow
    Kobayashi Issa
  27. 27. Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl
    John Greenleaf Whittier
  28. 28. Snow White's Acne
    Denise Duhamel
  29. 29. The Cross Of Snow
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  30. 30. At The Melting Of The Snow
    Banjo Paterson
  31. 31. Like Snow
    Robert Graves
  32. 32. Improvisations: Light And Snow
    Conrad Potter Aiken
  33. 33. On A Lady Throwing Snow-Balls At Her Lover
    Christopher Smart
  34. 34. Poem (Old Man In The Crystal Morning Aft..
    Delmore Schwartz
  35. 35. Snow
    Louise Gluck
  36. 36. Snow Flakes
    Emily Dickinson
  37. 37. Falling Snow
    Amy Lowell
  38. 38. Pissing In The Snow
    Kobayashi Issa
  39. 39. Sonnet -- The Snow-Drop
    Mary Darby Robinson
  40. 40. Snow
    John Davidson
  41. 41. Two Travellers Perishing In Snow
    Emily Dickinson
  42. 42. Snow In Europe
    David Gascoyne
  43. 43. A Theory Of Snow
    David Kowalczyk
  44. 44. Marine Snow At Mid-Depths And Down
    Thomas Lux
  45. 45. In Snow
    William Allingham
  46. 46. Snow Or Snowdrops?
    Mathilde Blind
  47. 47. An Acorn Lies Within The Snow
  48. 48. Snow Man
    Risha Ahmed (12 yrs)
  49. 49. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The Snow..
    Conrad Potter Aiken
  50. 50. The First Winter Snow
    Richard Brautigan

New Snow Poems

  1. No Snow, No Show, Sebastian Melmoth
  2. Skier's Prayer, David Welch
  3. Incidents, Yang Lian
  4. Trail Run,4/15/19, vasyl miller
  5. Till Human Voices Wake Us And..., Dónall Dempsey
  6. Enjoying Our Little Lives, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  7. Anticipation - Lincoln Park Zoo, Ima Ryma
  8. SNOW AND LOVE, Lêdo Ivo
  9. One Magic Night, Audrey Loveland
  10. Snow, Daniel Miltz

Snow Poems

  1. Dust Of Snow

    The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

  2. Snow

    The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was Spawning snow and pink roses against it Soundlessly collateral and incompatible: World is suddener than we fancy it. World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and feel The drunkenness of things being various. And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes– On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands– There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

  3. Snow

    Walking through a field with my little brother Seth I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow. For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground. He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer. Then we were on the roof of the lake. The ice looked like a photograph of water. Why he asked. Why did he shoot them. I didn't know where I was going with this. They were on his property, I said. When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room. Today I traded hellos with my neighbor. Our voices hung close in the new acoustics. A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling. We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence. But why were they on his property, he asked.

  4. Shoveling Snow With Buddha

    In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok you would never see him doing such a thing, tossing the dry snow over a mountain of his bare, round shoulder, his hair tied in a knot, a model of concentration. Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word for what he does, or does not do. Even the season is wrong for him. In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid? Is this not implied by his serene expression, that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe? But here we are, working our way down the driveway, one shovelful at a time. We toss the light powder into the clear air. We feel the cold mist on our faces. And with every heave we disappear and become lost to each other in these sudden clouds of our own making, these fountain-bursts of snow. This is so much better than a sermon in church, I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling. This is the true religion, the religion of snow, and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky, I say, but he is too busy to hear me. He has thrown himself into shoveling snow as if it were the purpose of existence, as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway you could back the car down easily and drive off into the vanities of the world with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio. All morning long we work side by side, me with my commentary and he inside his generous pocket of silence, until the hour is nearly noon and the snow is piled high all around us; then, I hear him speak. After this, he asks, can we go inside and play cards? Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table while you shuffle the deck. and our boots stand dripping by the door. Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes and leaning for a moment on his shovel before he drives the thin blade again deep into the glittering white snow.

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