A Plea For Our Northern Winters.

"Oh, Earth, where is the mantle of pleasant emerald dye
That robed thee in sweet summer-time, and gladdened heart and eye,
Adorned with blooming roses, graceful ferns and blossoms sweet,
And bright green moss like velvet that lay soft beneath our feet?"

"What! am I not as lovely in my garb of spotless white?
Was young bride in her beauty ever clothed in robe as bright?
Or, if you seek for tinting warm, at morn and evening hour,
You'll find me bathed in blushes bright as those of summer flower."

"But, Earth, I miss the verdure of thy woods and forests old,
The waving of their foliage, casting shadows o'er the wold,
The golden sunbeams peering 'mid the green leaves here and there,
And I sigh to see the branches so cheerless and so bare."

"But oft they're clothed in ermine to the sight and touch more fair
Than the costly robing monarchs for regal garments wear,
Whilst at times the glitt'ring branches with jewels are ablaze,
The Frost King's pearls and diamonds flashing back the light's clear rays."

"Well, I grieve to see thy rivers, thy lakes and mountain streams,
That in summer rippled gaily beneath the suns' glad beams,
As light barks glided swiftly o'er their azure waves at will,
Held now in icy barriers that guard them cold and still."

"But, see their glassy bosom, what scene could be more bright?
How gaily o'er the surface darts the skater, strong and light;
And happy, cheerful voices ring out from shore to shore,
And forms are clearly mirrored on that dazzling crystal floor."

"Ah, Earth, I cannot listen to thy soft, persuasive voice,
Though the pleasures thou can'st offer may make other hearts rejoice,
For with love and fond regret I recall each cloudless day,
Spent with friends in sunny rambles - when the whole world seemed at play."

"Why, the time for pleasant converse is the winter's stormy night,
Its long and quiet evenings, with fire and tapers bright,
The soothing strains of music, laughter, jest and happy song, -
Yes! the dearest of all pleasures to the winter-time belong."

"I yield! Oh, Earth, thou hast thy charms, I grant it freely now,
In winter's sterner hours, as when the spring-buds deck thy brow,
So, a truce to idle grieving o'er summer beauties fled,
Our northern winters we'll accept with grateful hearts instead."

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon was a Canadian poet and novelist known for her contributions to Canadian literature in the 19th century. She wrote several novels and numerous poems, often focusing on themes of love, identity, and cultural conflicts. Leprohon's work is notable for its exploration of Canadian identity and bilingual heritage as she wrote in both English and French.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Mater Christianorum, Ora Pro Nobis!

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

The Clouds That Promise A Glorious Morrow.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

The Garden Of Gethsemane.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

The Young Novice.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Winter In Canada.

Nay tell me not that, with shivering fear,
You shrink from the thought of wintering here;
That the cold intense of our winter-time
Is severe as that of Siberian clime,
And, if wishes could waft you across the sea,
You, to-night, in your English home would be.

Remember, no hedges there now are bright
With verdure, or blossoms of hawthorn white;
In damp, sodden fields or bare garden beds
No daisies or cowslips show their heads;
Whilst chill winds and skies of gloomy hue
Tell in England, as elsewhere, 'tis winter too.

Away with dull thoughts! Raise your brooding eyes
To yonder unclouded azure skies;
Look round on the earth, robed in bridal white,
All glittering and flashing with diamonds bright,
While o'er head, her lover and lord, the sun,
Shine...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Winter Magic

Winter that hath few friends yet numbers those
Of spirit erect and delicate of eye;
All may applaud sweet Summer, with her rose,
And Autumn, with her banners in the sky;
But when from the earth's cheek the colour goes,
Her old adorers from her presence fly.

So cold her bosom seems, such icy glare
Is in her eyes, while on the frozen mere
The shrill ice creaks in the congealing air;
Where is the lover that shall call her dear,
Or the devotion that shall find her fair?
The white-robed widow of the vanished year.

Yet hath she loveliness and many flowers,
Dreams hath she too and tender reveries,
Tranced mid the rainbows of her gleaming bowers,
Or the hushed temples of her pillared trees;
Summer has scarce such soft and silent hours,
Autumn has no s...

Richard Le Gallienne

The Fall Of The Leaf.

Earnest and sad the solemn tale
    That the sighing winds give back,
Scatt'ring the leaves with mournful wail
    O'er the forest's faded track;
Gay summer birds have left us now
    For a warmer, brighter clime,
Where no leaden sky or leafless bough
    Tell of change and winter-time.

Reapers have gathered golden store
    Of maize and ripened grain,
And they'll seek the lonely fields no more
    Till the springtide comes again.
But around the homestead's blazing hearth
    Will they find sweet rest from toil,
And many an hour of harmless mirth
    While the snow-storm piles the soil.

Then, why should we grieve for summer skies -
    For its shady trees - its flowers,
Or the thousand light and pleasant ties
    That endeared the su...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The White Maiden And The Indian Girl.

"Child of the Woods, bred in leafy dell,
See the palace home in which I dwell,
With its lofty walls and casements wide,
And objects of beauty on every side;
Now, tell me, dost thou not think it bliss
To dwell in a home as bright as this?"

"Has my pale-faced sister never seen
My home in the pleasant forest green,
With the sunshine weaving its threads of gold
Through the boughs of elm and of maples old,
And soft green moss and wild flowers sweet,
What carpet more fitting for maidens' feet?"

"Well, see these diamonds of price untold,
These costly trinkets of burnished gold,
With rich soft robes - my daily wear -
These graceful flower-wreaths for my hair;
And now, at least, thou must frankly tell
Thou would'st like such garb and jewels well."

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Autumn And Winter.

I.

Beautiful Autumn is dead and gone -
                Weep for her!
Calm, and gracious, and very fair,
With sunny robe and with shining hair,
And a tender light in her dreamy eye,
She came to earth but to smile and die -
                Weep for her!

Nay, nay, I will not weep!
        She came with a smile,
        And tarried awhile,
    Quieting Nature to sleep; -
        Then went on her way
        O'er the hill-tops grey,
And yet - and yet, she is dead, you say!
Nay! - she brought us blessings, and left us cheer,
And alive and well shell return next year! -
            Why should I weep?


II.

Desolate Winter has come again -
                Frown on him!
    He comes with a withering breath,

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Solstice.

I.

I sit at evening's scented close,
In fulness of the summer-tide;
All dewy fair the lily glows,
No single petal of the row;
Has fallen to dim the rose's pride.

Sweet airs, sweet harmonies of hue,
Surround, caress me everywhere;
The spells of dusk, the spells of dew,
My senses steal, my reason woo,
And sing a lullaby to tare,

But vainly do the warm airs sing,
All vain the roses' rapturous breath;
A chill blast, as from wintry wing,
Smites on my heart, and, shuddering,
I see the beauty changed to death.

Afar I see it loom and rise,
That pitiless and icy shape.
It blots the blue, it dims the skies;
Amid the summer land it cries,
"I come, and there is no escape!"

O, bitter drop in bloom and sweet!
O, ca...

Susan Coolidge