Toward The Winter Solstice Poem by Timothy Steele. Traditions, … These days they are delicious chocolate cakes shaped like tree trunks, but they once would have been a a real log burnt as an offering at the Solstice.The popular Christmas carol The Holly and The Ivy pays tribute to a Pagan custom of bringing male and female elements together to mark the Solstice and represent how light and dark both exist simultaneously throughout the year.Christmas might be a Christian event, but it is believed it was given the date of December 25 to coincide with the Roman winter solstice celebration of Saturnalia.Over 2,000 Druids are expected to congregate at Stonehenge this Thursday December 22 to watch the sun rise over the ancient stones.Many Pagan families celebrate the shortest day of the year by going for a winter walk and bringing home a log, moss and other foliage to make their own yule log with.However, the day will also be marked across the globe, with tradition in Japan dictating that people enjoy a hot bath with yuzu citrus fruits to welcome the Winter Solstice and protect themselves from catching a cold.This song features in Shakespeare's 1599 comedy, As You Like It.Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:Then, heigh-ho, the holly! I had been reading a book called Late Fragments, everything I want to tell you (about this magnificent life) written by Kate Gross in her final months of enduring cancer. Blessed are the night and the darkness that blinds us. Dec. 21, 2015. Blessed is the cold that teaches us to feel. On the Winter Solstice, he was poor and stood at the valley’s edge with a stick, while others reunited with families to celebrate the festival happily. I was happy to be reminded of this poem, and thought I’d pass it on to you–it’s so nice to be able to share what we enjoy and find helpful.The solstice is the darkest time of year, but it also is a time that reminds us of the lights around and within us. Let us know if you have a favourite winter poem in the comments below. From Robert Louis Stevenson to Christina Rossetti here are our top picks for winter solstice.

This life is most jolly. Blessed is the labor that exhausts us without end. Winter solstice approaches. Happy Winter Solstice 2018! 679215 Registered office: 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF. I was happy to be reminded of this poem, and thought I’d pass it on to you–it’s so nice to be able to share what we enjoy and find helpful. Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.Of Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, and Sikhs,When you subscribe we will use the information you provide to send you these newsletters. That crisp, cool air. The solstice is the darkest time of year, but it also is a time that reminds us of the lights around and within us.Mary Oliver’s poem, “Snowy Night,” is a poem that reminds us to pay attention and to be with what is present, whether we understand it or not: It reminds us, too, of the ways we love this world and how to stay in wonder. Its opposite is the s The following poem may assist you in your contemplation of the season, and doubly so if you imbibe your favourite drink – for me, I’ve ‘re-discovered’ Horlicks malt drink, and I’ll be sipping that. A soft, fresh blanket of snow. Read More Related Articles. Read More. When we witness another year draw to a close, what we do want to see is a time of Winter solstice celebrations. Let us know if you have a favourite winter poem in the comments below. Prayer at Winter Solstice By Dana Gioia.

unto the green holly:Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:Then, heigh-ho, the holly!This life is most jolly.Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,That dost not bite so nighAs benefits forgot:Though thou the waters warp,Thy sting is not so sharpAs friend remember’d not.Heigh-ho!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 sitTo warm my frozen bones a bit;Or with a reindeer-sled, exploreThe colder countries round the door.When to go out, my nurse doth wrapMe in my comforter and cap;The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its 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.One must have a mind of winterTo regard the frost and the boughsOf the pine-trees crusted with snow;And have been cold a long timeTo behold the junipers shagged with ice,The spruces rough in the distant glitterOf the January sun; and not to thinkOf any misery in the sound of the wind,In the sound of a few leaves,Which is the sound of the landFull of the same windThat is blowing in the same bare placeFor the listener, who listens in the snow And, nothing himself, beholdsNothing that is not there and the nothing that is.Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.The little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound’s the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.The woods are lovely dark and deep.But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,And were swept up to heaven; where they glowedEach dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.From off your face, into the winds of winter,The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.Look at winterWith winter eyesAs smoke curls from rooftopsTo clear cobalt skies.Breathe in winterPast winter nose:The sweet scent of black birchWhere velvet moss grows.Walk through winterWith winter feetOn crackling iceOr sloshy wet sleet.Look at winterWith winter eyes:The rustling of oak leavesAs spring slowly nears.

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