by Thomas Hardy
Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute:
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again.
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.
A sparrow enters the tree,
Whereon immediately
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eye
And overturns him,
And near inurns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.
The steps are a blanched slope,
Up which, with feeble hope,
A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin;
And we take him in.
I posted this poem today at the request of ds (11 - today!). Besides being a favorite poem of his, he wants to know if "inurns" is right or if "inturns" as is in one of our poetry books is correct. Thoughts? Links? Comments? All welcome. : )
Poetry Friday is being hosted today at Adventures in Daily Living.
Happy birthday to your son. What a thoughtful young man, to not only have a favorite poem but to care about the details.
ReplyDeleteI really like the poem too BTW.
I found it as "inurns" in at least three other places online :)
ReplyDeleteWhat great sounds in this poem--and so visual, too. Seems almost playful for Hardy!
WHat a lovely snow poem! Happy birthday to your ds.
ReplyDeleteYat-Yee, Jennifer, and Cloudscome, thanks for stopping by. Birthday celebrations took over the day, so I've not had a chance to visit other Poetry Friday entries yet, but I'll be heading on over to see what you've all posted soon!
ReplyDeleteI had to look up the word, inurns!
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful that your son has a favorite poem to share!
Tell your ds I said "Happy Birthday!"
ReplyDeleteOdd to think that your oldest and my oldest are 10 years apart (his birthday was Tuesday).
Love the poem. "Inurns" makes sense here; "inturns" does not.
Inurns wins--the book of winter poems we have here at home must have a typo. Or I just copied it wrong when I typed it out for him a couple of months ago.
ReplyDeleteFor some reason I remember the word, "inturn" meaning the same thing as "inurn," and now I can't even find the word "inturn," so it's very likely I replaced it without thinking. Nope, just checked--the editor of Winter Poems was under the same impression as I, evidently!