Winterlude

by Bob Dylan

Winterlude, Winterlude, oh darling
Winterlude by the road tonight
Tonight there will be no quarrelin'
Ev'rything is gonna be all right
Oh, I see by the angel beside me
That love has a reason to shine
You're the one I adore, come over here and give me more
Then Winterlude, this dude thinks you're fine

Winterlude, Winterlude, my little apple
Winterlude by the corn in the field
Winterlude, let's go down to the chapel
Then come back and cook up a meal
Well, come out when the skating rink glistens
By the sun, near the old crossroads sign
The snow is so cold, but our love can be bold
Winterlude, don't be rude, please be mine

Winterlude, Winterlude, my little daisy
Winterlude by the telephone wire
Winterlude, it's making me lazy
Come on, sit by the logs in the fire
The moonlight reflects from the window
Where the snowflakes, they cover the sand
Come out tonight, ev'rything will be tight
Winterlude, this dude thinks you're grand

To the Thawing Wind

by Robert Frost

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snow-bank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate'er you do to-night,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ices go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o'er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

Snow-flakes

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the Air,
      Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
      Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
            Silent, and soft, and slow
            Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
      Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
      In the white countenance confession,
            The troubled sky reveals
            The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
      Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
      Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
            Now whispered and revealed
            To wood and field.

from 'The Dead'

by James Joyce

Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes [and] in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

Reluctance

by Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept
The end of a season?

Moonlight in Vermont

by John Blackburn

Pennies in a stream
Falling leaves, a sycamore
Moonlight in Vermont

Icy finger waves
Ski trails on a mountain side
Snowlight in Vermont

Telegraph cables, they sing down the highway
And travel each bend in the road
People who meet in this romantic setting
Are so hypnotized by the lovely...

Evening summer breeze
Warbling of a meadowlark
Moonlight in Vermont

Christmas Trees

by Robert Frost

The city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in that there
He sat and waited till he drew us out
A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.
He proved to be the city come again
To look for something it had left behind
And could not do without and keep its Christmas.
He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;
My woods—the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
I hadn't thought of them as Christmas Trees.
I doubt if I was tempted for a moment
To sell them off their feet to go in cars
And leave the slope behind the house all bare,
Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.
I'd hate to have them know it if I was.
Yet more I'd hate to hold my trees except
As others hold theirs or refuse for them,
Beyond the time of profitable growth,
The trial by market everything must come to.
I dallied so much with the thought of selling.
Then whether from mistaken courtesy
And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether
From hope of hearing good of what was mine,
I said, 'There aren't enough to be worth while.'
'I could soon tell how many they would cut,
You let me look them over.'

'You could look.
But don't expect I'm going to let you have them.'
Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close
That lop each other of boughs, but not a few
Quite solitary and having equal boughs
All round and round. The latter he nodded 'Yes' to,
Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,
With a buyer's moderation, 'That would do.'
I thought so too, but wasn't there to say so.
We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,
And came down on the north.
He said, 'A thousand.'

'A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?'

He felt some need of softening that to me:
'A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.'

Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them. Never show surprise!
But thirty dollars seemed so small beside
The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents
(For that was all they figured out apiece),
Three cents so small beside the dollar friends
I should be writing to within the hour
Would pay in cities for good trees like those,
Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools
Could hang enough on to pick off enough.
A thousand Christmas trees I didn't know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell,
As may be shown by a simple calculation.
Too bad I couldn't lay one in a letter.
I can't help wishing I could send you one,
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.

Try to Remember

by Tom Jones

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow
Try to remember, and if you remember, then follow

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow
Try to remember, and if you remember, then follow

Deep in December it's nice to remember
Although you know the snow will follow
Deep in December it's nice to remember
Without the hurt the heart is hollow
Deep in December it's nice to remember
The fire of September that made us mellow
Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow

Dire Wolf

by Robert Hunter

In the timbers of Fennario
the wolves are running 'round
The winter was so hard and cold
froze ten feet 'neath the ground

Don't murder me
I beg of you don't murder me
Please
don't murder me

I sat down to my supper
'Twas a bottle of red whiskey
I said my prayers and went to bed
That's the last they saw of me

Don't murder me
I beg of you don't murder me
Please
don't murder me

When I awoke, the Dire Wolf
Six hundred pounds of sin
Was grinnin at my window
All I said was "Come on in"

Don't murder me
I beg of you don't murder me
Please
don't murder me

The wolf came in, I got my cards
We sat down for a game
I cut my deck to the queen of spades
but the cards were all the same

Don't murder me
I beg of you don't murder me
Please
don't murder me

In the backwash of Fennario
The black and bloody mire
The Dire Wolf collects his due
while the boys sing round the fire

Don't murder me
I beg of you don't murder me
Please
don't murder me

Winter

by Norman Blake

The summer was out of sight
We couldn't sleep at night
Shadows were closing in
Back in the dark again

Basement we didn't own
Cut off the telephone
Ceiling was falling down
Winter was underground

There are worlds
We can find
A hidden place
Is in our minds

Place where the water falls
Nobody ever calls
Sky is forever clear
Road never made it here

Forests are deep and green
Like nothing we've ever seen
Heavens revolving sin
Seasons change everything

Snow

by Randy Newman

Snow fills the fields we used to know
And the little park where we would go
Sleeps far below in the snow

Gone, it's all over and you're gone
But the memory lives on
Although our dreams lie buried in the snow

Sometimes the wind blows through the trees
And I think I hear you calling me
But all I see is...

Snow everywhere I go
As the cold winter sun sinks low
I walk alone through the snow

Hoarfrost

by Lee Ranaldo

I put my foot deep in the tracks that you made
Walked behind you off into the wood
'We'll know where when we get there,' you said
And we both knew we would

High above like a spider
The colors turning brown
Freeways passing by us
I took your hand, and we knelt down

Wheels paddle, wheels paddle movement as we go
Trees passing, trees passing signs along the road
A view through the trees to a couple in the snow
A view through the trees to a couple standing in the snow

Suddenly the trees were flashing by us
Clouds reflecting fast across your eye
We turned into a frozen meadow
The wind the only sound
'We'll know where when we get there,' you said

Walking on Water

by Nate Wilson

Under the burned-out skies of dark December
Lonely visions passed me by
It was a voice I heard that whispered softly
And carried me away
To a place of fires and fallen angels

And in my final hour all was golden
Burned the buildings to the frozen ground
All that I saw was changed at once before me
And high above the fields
I was filled with glorious delusions

Found today burning in the rafters
As the walls began to fall
Hauled away, a wall of angry faces
'Round the instrument of gods

If I see Saint Lucilia walking on the water
I'll turn and walk away
And it's a fine line between the work of devils and of angels
And in the end it's all the same

After the flames died down I remember
Alone imprisoned by the force of hands
I waited 'til silence came to lay my head down
And in my darkest dreams
I caught sight of the threads of my unmaking

A Winter's Tale

by Freddie Mercury

It's Winterfall
Red skies are gleaming
Seagulls are flying over
Swans are floating by
Smoking chimney tops
Am I dreaming?
Am I dreaming?

The nights draw in
There's a silky moon up in the sky
Children are fantasizing
Grown-ups are standing by
What a super feeling
Am I dreaming?
Am I dreaming?

So quiet and peaceful
Tranquil and blissful
There's a kind of magic in the air
What a truly magnificient view
A breathtaking scene
With the dreams of the world
In the palm of your hand

A cozy fireside chat
A little this, a little that
Sound of merry laughter skipping by
Gentle rain beating on my face
What an extraordinary place
And the dream of the child
Is the hope of the hope of the man

It's all so beautiful
Like a landscape painting in the sky
Mountains are zooming higher
Little girls scream and cry
My world is spinning and spinning and spinning
It's unbelievable
Sends me reeling
Am I dreaming?
Am I dreaming?

It's bliss

For You

by Jody Stephens

Sometimes I can't help but worship you
I love you and all the things that you do
I thought I'd sit and write this song just for you
To let you know that I am thinking of you

When I come home so cold at night
You'll have the fireplace burning bright
Thoughts of how it's going to be
And how I'll spend those cold, cold nights warm by you

And in these autumn days I wander through the leaves
Thinking of those winter nights I'll spend with you

December

by Gerard Love

I'll take this chance to tell my friends
What I'm thinking of
On second thought, I'll think some more
And tell you later on

She don't even care
But I would die for her love

My mind is full of several things
Resembling a thought
I'll take this chance to tell my friends
What I'm thinking of

She don't even care
But I would die for her love

I've had this plan for many years
But now I can't remember
I wanted to assassinate December

It's Cold Outside

by Wally Bryson

My world used to be sunny
And jokes used to be funny
But now you're gone
And everything's turned all around

My world used to be warm
And there never was a storm
But now you're gone
And everything's turned upside-down

And now it's cold outside
And the rain is pouring down
And the leaves are turning brown
Can't you see
That now it's cold outside?
And it's all because of you
'Cause there's nothing I can do
To make you love me

January Hymn

by Colin Meloy

On a winter's Sunday I go
To clear away the snow
And green the ground below

April all an ocean away
Is this the better way to spend the day?
Keeping the winter at bay

What were the words I meant to say before you left?
When I could see your breath
Lead where you were going to
Maybe I should just let it be
And maybe it will all come back to me
Sing, 'Oh January, oh'

How I lived a childhood in snow
And all my teens in tow
Stuffed in strata of clothes

Pale the winter days after dark
Wandering the grey memorial park
A fleeting beating of hearts

What were the words I meant to say before she left?
When I could see her breath
Lead where she were going to
Maybe I should just let it be
And maybe it will all come back to me
Sing, 'Oh January, oh'

Valley Winter Song

by Adam Schlesinger

Hey Sweet ——, don't take it so bad
You know the summer's coming soon
Though the interstate is choking under salt and dirty sand
And it seems the sun is hiding from the moon

Your daddy told you when you were a girl
The kind of things that come to those who wait
So give it a rest, girl, take a deep breath, girl
And meet me at the Bay State tonight

And the snow is coming down
On our New England town
And it's been falling all day long
What else is new?
What could I do?
I wrote a valley winter song
To play for you

And late December can drag a man down
You feel it deep in your gut
Short days and afternoons spent pottering around
In a dark house with the windows painted shut

Remember New York staring outside
As reckless winter made its way
From Staten Island to the Upper West Side
Whiting out our streets along the way

And the snow is coming down
On our New England town
And it's been falling all day long
What else is new?
What can I do?
But sing this valley winter song
I wrote for you

Midwinter

by Christina Rossetti

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him,
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign;
In the bleak midwinter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Enough for him, whom Cherubim
Worship night and day
A breast full of milk
And a manger full of hay.
Enough for him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But his mother only,
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him —
Give my heart.