A Bit of Blank Verse (A Little Alliteration Also)
I suppose given the date (April 4, no it probably won't mean anything to most of you), I should be writing some sort of emotional poetry, but nature is far more interesting and comprehensible than emotions. Anyway, this is a poem I wrote inspired by my trip to Gaspe, Quebec over spring break. It's blank verse and also rather heavy on the alliteration in places (not sure if that's a good thing or not). The language is sometimes rather archaic, I know, but that sort of poetry just doesn't sound right with plain old "you" and "your" and the like (at least to me). Comments, complaints, criticisms welcome.
Pilgrimage to Winter
O, wild winter, wind of ice and snow,
Who late have left my land, withdrawing north,
I hunger still to know thy secret ways
And wisdom and to feel of nature’s force.
And so, as pilgrim of the snows, I turn
And journey north to know again thy truth
Ere summer’s conquest is at last complete.
Though on my journey soon I hear thee roar
And face thy tempests and they gales of white,
I further seek to find my final goal,
These rugged mountains cold and icy vales
Where clad in frosty armor yet you dwell.
Here in this great hivernal home I learn
The awe and beauty of the blowing snow
Or windswept fields where footprints soon are lost.
I see the peaceful beauty of the snow
That lies on trees, a coat of white on green,
In splendor such as seldom can be seen
Or on the undisturbèd paths and fields
Serene, soft blanket of the sleeping Earth
That yields and yet resists the passing foot.
I stand beside the frozen waters wide;
I pause to gaze at mountains clothed in white,
Pure raiment torn by jagged rocks and peaks.
The steeply-sloping cirques and bowls I see
Where paths of avalanches can recall
The awful strength that thou, O winter, wield.
And so in all the signs of peace and power,
The silent trees, the raging winds, and all,
I see thee winter in thy many forms,
In all thy might and majesty laid bare,
And find at last the object of my quest.
And yet you lie upon the land serene
Or rage as though no equal e’er could be,
But yet I know for all thy calm and might
The swift and melting spring approaches soon.
The warming sun already finds a place
To break the clouds upon the cold grey sky,
And to the south I know it reigns in full.
But all these cares, I sense, don’t trouble thee;
Thou knows the cycle and thou dost not fear
But long as life remains dost keep thy ways
And mysteries of peace and power, wrapped
In beauty both the eye and mind perceive.
Alas, I now must leave thee, season cold,
Returning where you have already left,
And where now spring her conquest clearly holds,
First flowers bloom and warmer breezes blow,
And beauty of another sort is known.
But swift as seasons pass us ever by
Shall thou return, O winter fierce and free,
And I as well shall go again to thee,
For mine it is a never-ending quest
To learn the things that snow and wind may teach
To mortal minds and hearts that long to learn.
Pilgrimage to Winter
O, wild winter, wind of ice and snow,
Who late have left my land, withdrawing north,
I hunger still to know thy secret ways
And wisdom and to feel of nature’s force.
And so, as pilgrim of the snows, I turn
And journey north to know again thy truth
Ere summer’s conquest is at last complete.
Though on my journey soon I hear thee roar
And face thy tempests and they gales of white,
I further seek to find my final goal,
These rugged mountains cold and icy vales
Where clad in frosty armor yet you dwell.
Here in this great hivernal home I learn
The awe and beauty of the blowing snow
Or windswept fields where footprints soon are lost.
I see the peaceful beauty of the snow
That lies on trees, a coat of white on green,
In splendor such as seldom can be seen
Or on the undisturbèd paths and fields
Serene, soft blanket of the sleeping Earth
That yields and yet resists the passing foot.
I stand beside the frozen waters wide;
I pause to gaze at mountains clothed in white,
Pure raiment torn by jagged rocks and peaks.
The steeply-sloping cirques and bowls I see
Where paths of avalanches can recall
The awful strength that thou, O winter, wield.
And so in all the signs of peace and power,
The silent trees, the raging winds, and all,
I see thee winter in thy many forms,
In all thy might and majesty laid bare,
And find at last the object of my quest.
And yet you lie upon the land serene
Or rage as though no equal e’er could be,
But yet I know for all thy calm and might
The swift and melting spring approaches soon.
The warming sun already finds a place
To break the clouds upon the cold grey sky,
And to the south I know it reigns in full.
But all these cares, I sense, don’t trouble thee;
Thou knows the cycle and thou dost not fear
But long as life remains dost keep thy ways
And mysteries of peace and power, wrapped
In beauty both the eye and mind perceive.
Alas, I now must leave thee, season cold,
Returning where you have already left,
And where now spring her conquest clearly holds,
First flowers bloom and warmer breezes blow,
And beauty of another sort is known.
But swift as seasons pass us ever by
Shall thou return, O winter fierce and free,
And I as well shall go again to thee,
For mine it is a never-ending quest
To learn the things that snow and wind may teach
To mortal minds and hearts that long to learn.