Winter Poems

Enjoy this collection of short winter poems. The writers express their thoughts about wintertime. Winter can be a time that we enjoy the comfort of a warm home while experiencing the briskness of a winter walk. Winter is a time when the days are shorter, however, the night sky is more brilliant. Share these poems with others to help express an appreciation of this season.

Short Poems   /   Poems About The Seasons    /    Winter Poems - related Winter Quotes


  1. Winter Is Back Again
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer


    Winter brings the cold of February
    But remember it is only temporary.

    Spring is the season that comes next
    Focus on that, it puts it all in context.

    And then the heat of summer does arrive
    And we start wishing for the cold to survive

    And then we see the season of fall
    There is beauty in the trees for all

    And then we are back to winter again
    The seasons are so certain!



  2. Winter brings the cold of February But remember it is only temporary.


  3. Winter Madness
    Poet: Julie Hebert, ©2015


    I've never been that type of person,
    Who welcomes and hopes for Jack Frost.
    I mourn when the sunshine starts to fade,
    And when the leaves of the trees are finally lost.

    When we get our first snowfall,
    I must say the trees look quite nice.
    But the roads are a hazard and everything's covered,
    And its always like walking on ice.

    Maybe if I skied, skated or snowshoed,
    Things wouldn't be so bad.
    But the fact is there isn't much I like about winter,
    And this often makes me feel mad.

    If I could I'd avoid the cold,
    And sit in my cozy home.
    I'd put on a fire and sit with a book,
    And hope for winter to roam.



  4. Thankful For Unpleasant Things
    Poet: Julie Hebert, ©2015


    Snow is unpleasant,
    When April does hit,
    Enough is enough,
    The snow has to quit.

    But in the fall when,
    That first snow has fallen.
    There is no part of me,
    That wishes for pollen.

    The beauty that surrounds,
    By all the fresh snow.
    Trees lightly covered,
    They offer a glow.

    Looking for good,
    In a pile of bad.
    You'll find the part,
    That makes you feel glad.



  5. The beauty that surrounds, By all the fresh snow


  6. A Time Of Year
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer


    Winter is a time of year
    That some look forward to and cheer
    But for others, winter feels cold
    They just sit back and grow old.

    But when you see that first snow fall
    Childhood days can be recalled
    Day of building a snowman
    With friends and family, the clan.

    If open your eyes you will see
    The beauty of the season, it can be
    When the  icicles shimmer in the sun
    The beauty is like no other one.

    Winter brings Christmas cheer
    Spending it with people who are so dear
    Friends and family around the fire
    Will fulfill all of your heart's desire.

    So when winter arrives this year
    Don't sit back, get out in full gear
    Enjoy the time this season brings
    Before you know it, it will be spring!



  7. Winter Time
    Poet: Robert Louis Stevenson


    Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
    A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
    Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
    A blood-red orange, sets again.

    Before the stars have left the skies,
    At morning in the dark I rise;
    And shivering in my nakedness,
    By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

    Close by the jolly fire I sit
    To warm my frozen bones a bit;
    Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
    The colder countries round the door.

    When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
    Me in my comforter and cap;
    The cold wind burns my face, and blows
    It's frosty pepper up my nose.

    Black are my steps on silver sod;
    Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
    And tree and house, and hill and lake,
    Are frosted like a wedding-cake.



  8. Winter Joys
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer


    Winter is a time for joy
    For all the girls and the boys
    They love it when it snows
    They are excited to see it blow.

    They build the snowman, oh so high,
    And they are sad when he dies.
    But out they go again with determination
    And build him taller with amplification.

    The forts they build are big and strong
    While in them they feel no wrong.
    So the next time you see the snow
    Get out and let your imagination flow.



  9. So the next time you see the snow Get out and let your imagination flow.


  10. Dust of Snow
    Poet: Robert Frost


    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.



  11. Winter Rain
    Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox


    Falling upon the frozen world last night
    I heard the slow beat of the winter rain -
    Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;
    The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might;
    Far better had the fixedness of white
    And uncomplaining snows - which make no sign,
    But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine -
    Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.
    Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,
    I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.
    Though sinewy Fate deals her most skillful blow,
    I do not waste the gall now of my tears,
    But feed my pride upon its bitter, while
    I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.



  12. The Green Grass Under The Snow
    Poet: Annie A. Preston


    The work of the sun is slow,
    But as sure as heaven, we know;
    So we'll not forget,
    When the skies are wet,
    There's green grass under the snow.

    When the winds of winter blow,
    Wailing like voices of woe,
    There are April showers,
    And buds and flowers,
    And green grass under the snow.

    We find that it's ever so
    In this life's uneven flow;
    We've only to wait,
    In the face of fate,
    For the green grass under the snow.



  13. Get Out
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer


    Winter brings the shorter days
    Less of sun and its rays
    Coldness is felt in the air
    And more clothes we do wear.

    But winter can also bring lots of fun
    Skating, snowshoeing, and tobogganing
    Rosy cheeks for all to see
    Enjoy hot chocolate or coffee

    Don't waste away those winter days
    Get out and find some play
    Enjoy the season as it won't last
    Get out and have a blast!



  14. Winter Waits
    Poet: Cobb


    Ice and snow, ice and snow,
    Frozen fields where e'er we go.
    Frozen fields and frozen lakes,
    Frosted o'er like wedding cakes.
    Girls and boys leave your toys.
    Come and taste cold-weather joys.
    Bring your sleds and bring your skates.
    Hasten now while winter waits.



  15. Gray November
    Poet: Unknown


    Now the skies are leaden cold,
    Last lone leaves are falling;
    Sap is shrinking; birds fly south,
    To their laggards calling.

    All outdoors is growing numb.
    Wood ways coldly greet us;
    We must wait the winter's will
    Ere the blossoms meet us.

    How can sunlight flicker out
    On dead stems, I wonder?
    Hark ! Was that an elfin laugh
    From the thicket yonder?

    Gray November's willful child.
    None to stay or stint her,
    Flaunts her tousled yellow locks.
    In the face of winter!



  16. Gone Is Summer
    Poet: Howard Carleton Tripp


    Now the dreary winds may blow
    Gone are all the summer hours,
    And the chilling sleet and snow
    Shrouds the sepulchre of flowers;
    But the spring will come again,
    And will wake to life once more
    All the blossoms in the glen,
    All the wavelets on the shore.

    Thus is life: its stormy hours
    Strengthen us for weal or woe;
    And the summer's sun and showers
    Yield to winter's ice and snow;
    But when childhood's spring has fled
    Summer gives her wealth of bloom,
    While man's autumn soon is wed
    To his winter's shrouded tomb.

    But death's spring-time may appear
    At the resurrection mom;
    And the kind deeds we've done here
    Be as blossoms newly born.
    Then no more the winds shall blow,
    Gone shall be life's trying hours;
    And November's sleet and snow
    Shall not blight the Eden flowers.



  17. March Winds
    Poet: Mrs. M. J. E. Crawford


    The balmy scent of spring is on the breeze;
    'Tis not the scent of flowers, they bloom not yet;
    'Tis not the early blossoming of trees,
    Their tiny leaf-buds are not more than set;
    I know not whence the breathing fragrance flows,

    Which comes upon the first warm breath of spring,
    Long ere the violet or early rose
    Unfold their sweets to woo the zephyr's wing;
    Mayhap it cometh from the dark-brown earth
    Where sleeps the loveliness of summer hours,

    And the young winds have in their early mirth
    Stirred up the odors of the perished flowers.
    I know not, and it matters not to know,
    The secret of the March wind's balmy breath;
    I love it better that its murmurs low

    Are waked in scenes which wear the hue of death -
    The mourning hue which chilly autumn gave -
    It sounds like music breathed above the tomb,
    Whose soft notes tell of hope beyond the grave,
    As March winds herald April's coming bloom.



  18. Winter
    Poet: John H. Bryant


    The day had been a calm and sunny day,
    And tinged with amber was the sky at even;
    The fleecy clouds at length had rolled away,
    And lay in furrows on the eastern heaven;
    The moon arose and shed a glimmering ray,
    And round her orb a misty circle lay.

    The hoarfrost glittered on the naked heath,
    The roar of distant winds was loud and deep,
    The dry leaves rustled in each passing breath,
    And the gay world was lost in quiet sleep.
    Such was the time when, on the landscape brown,
    Through a December air the snow came down.

    The morning came, the dreary morn, at last,
    And showed the whitened waste. The shivering herd
    Lowed on the hoary meadow-ground, and fast
    Fell the light flakes upon the earth unstirred;
    The forest firs with glittering snows o'er-laid
    Stood like hoar priests in robes of white arrayed.



  19. In Winter Days
    Poet: Helen M. Richardson


    When autumn breezes rattle at the casement,
    And whistle through the pine-trees at the door;
    When squirrels store up nuts without abatement,
    And corn-stalks pile up on the old barn floor;

    When robins in large flocks begin to chatter
    About the journey southward, near at hand,
    And crickets shrilly chirp about the matter
    Of winter days when they will all disband, -

    We dream of joys beside the fireside waiting -
    The book, the game, the quiet social hour
    When we again may think of spring birds mating,
    Of sleeping bud unfolding into flower.

    Winter would have no terror to appal us
    Did we but mate our action and desire
    Unto the duties that forever call us,
    And bid us e'en though storm-bound to acquire

    The faith that holds the bird poised in mid-ocean
    Above a storm-tossed sea, its wings out-spread,
    Conscious that through life's turmoil and commotion
    We shall be safely and securely led.



  20. Winter
    Poet: Robert Southey


    A wrinkled, crabbed man they picture thee,
    Old Winter, with a rugged beard as gray
    As the long moss upon the apple-tree;
    Blue-lipt, an ice-drop at thy sharp blue nose.
    Close muffled up, and on thy dreary way.
    Plodding alone through sleet and drifting snows.
    They should have drawn thee by the high-heapt hearth.
    Old Winter! seated in thy great armed chair,
    Watching the children at their Christmas mirth,
    Or circled by them, as thy lips declare
    Some merry jest, or tale of murder dire,
    Or troubled spirit that disturbs the night,
    Pausing at times to rouse the mouldering fire,
    Or taste the old October brown and bright.



  21. Old-Fashioned Winter
    Poet: John Paul Bocock


    Hail, genial glow of frosty health,
    Old-fashioned Winter, hail!
    Here's welcome to thine icy wealth
    And all thy glittering mail!

    The ozone crackles overhead,
    The runnel 'neath the hill
    Crisps blithely in its little bed
    And all at once is still!

    What though thy snow be slush below,
    Thy breath be sleet above -
    Just for the sake of long ago
    Here's welcome and our love!

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