|
|
 |
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
The glittering roofs are still with frost; each worn
Black chimney builds into the quiet sky
Its curling pile to crumble silently.
Far out to westward on the edge of morn,
The slender misty city towers up-borne
Glimmer faint rose against the pallid blue;
And yonder on those northern hills, the hue
Of amethyst, hang fleeces dull as horn.
And here behind me come the woodmen's sleighs
With shouts and clamorous squeakings; might and main
Up the steep slope the horses stamp and strain,
Urged on by hoarse-tongued drivers—cheeks ablaze,
Iced beards and frozen eyelids—team by team,
With frost-fringed flanks, and nostrils jetting steam.
Archibald Lampman
|
|
Read poems about / on: city, rose, january, sky, horse
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Comments about this poem (A January Morning
by
Archibald Lampman
) |
|
Click here to write your
comments about this poem (A January Morning by
Archibald Lampman
)
 |
Kristen Wear
(6/12/2006 8:22:00 PM) |
I reall y really like this poem he really desprcives everything very well i see it so clearly
|
|
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
 |
|
