Winter Poems

Perfect for snowy days and long nights by the fire.
Detail of "Winter Fire" by Sara Katz
  • Hayden Carruth

           Just over the horizon a great machine of death is roaring and rearing
           We can hear it always. Earthquake, starvation, the ever-renewing sun of corpse-flesh.

  • Kenneth Patchen

           The snow is deep on the ground.
           Always the light falls
           Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.

  • William Shakespeare

           How like a winter hath my absence been
           From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!

  • Linda Gregg

           I would like to decorate this silence,
           but my house grows only cleaner

  • Percy Bysshe Shelley

           The cold earth slept below;
           Above the cold sky shone;

  • Mary Oliver

           In winter
           all the singing is in
           the tops of the trees

  • Grace Schulman

           Squinting through eye-slits in our balaclavas,
           we lurch across Washington Square Park

  • William Carlos Williams

           All the complicated details
           of the attiring and
           the disattiring are completed!

  • Tess Gallagher

           Suddenly, in every tree,
           an unseen nest
           where a mountain
           would be.

  • Roberta Hill

           Lips touching lips,
           did that break my horizon
           as much as those horses broke my belief?

  • Thomas Hardy

           I leant upon a coppice gate
           When Frost was spectre-grey

  • Robert Frost

           Whose woods these are I think I know.
           His house is in the village though;

  • William Carlos Williams

           years of anger following
           hours that float idly down —

    • Appeared in Poetry Magazine Ice
    Gail Mazur

           In the warming house, children lace their skates,
           bending, choked, over their thick jackets.

  • James Wright

           The night’s drifts
           Pile up below me and behind my back,

  • Thomas McGrath

           The birds have flown their summer skies to the south,
           And the flower-money is drying in the banks of bent grass

  • Robert Frost

           My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
           Toward heaven still,

  • Margaret Atwood

           Winter. Time to eat fat
           and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,

  • Denise Levertov

           As the stores close, a winter light
           opens air to iris blue,

  • Ted Kooser

           The first warm day,
           and by mid-afternoon
           the snow is no more
           than a washing
           strewn over the yards,