Category: Seasons

O Winter, grisly, icy thing
Of barren white and indigo,
Wilt thou make way when comes the Spring?

Thy fabric-piercing, awful sting
Makes thee Dame Nature’s greatest foe,
O Winter, grisly icy thing.

To just this hope thy victims cling,
Who suff er, cheeks and chins aglow:
Wilt thou make way when comes the Spring?

Thy breath hast stilled the lilting swing
That caused the happy brook to flow,
0 Winter, grisly icy thing.

All hope almost abandoning,
We wonder, as we see fresh snow,
Wilt thou make way when comes the Spring?

One day a flash of Bluebird’s wing
Shall tell us what we sought to know:
0 Winter, grisly icy thing,
Wilt thou make way when comes the Spring?

by Ray Romine Thursday, December 27, 1945

Say what you will, this month of March brings hope!
In spite of marrow-tingling days and nights
Thermometers will touch unheard of heights
One day this month, when troops of maids with soap
And men with screens and spades will try to cope
With this bright season come so quickly. Kites
Appear–and marbles bring on boyish fights,
And hatless yellow curls bob skipping rope.

What if, next day, The sun deserts again,
And crocuses sulk tight-lipped in the cold?
Take heart, chilled robin, life has always been
As full of ups and downs as spring. Don’t scold,
For there, defying winter’s final blow,
The greening willow smiles above the snow.

by Ray Romine Monday, March 24, 1952

Now comes that joyous time of year
When folks are shouting Spring Is Here!
With furious song, the birds are bursting,
And buds, too, which for sap were thirsting.
I’m bursting, too, if one but knew,
With much more work than I can do.
Anathema, I fear, to me,
That term “Busier than the bee.”

by Ray Romine Friday, November 30, 1951

The winds of March are hectic winds
That threaten as they blow;
They scurry into corners where
Angels fear to go.

They cut and sting and roar and howl
And play chess with the clouds;
They whip the clothes and bow the heads
Of home-bound leaning crowds.

But March winds have a better side
In spite of pranks! They shoo
King Winter to his frigid lair,
And send me spring–and you.

by Ray Romine Saturday, October 14, 1950

The leaves are falling to the ground;
They hardly make the smallest sound.
The noise I hear, unless mistaken,
Escapes from him who does the rakin’.
Which makes it difficult discerning
Whether raker or rakee is burning.

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 4, 1951

The recent snow is evidenced
By one or two defiant drifts
That lie, beleaguered, by the hedge
To watch the warming sun in shifts.

They must not sleep-they’re out to spoil
By looks and leers (and anything
That hints of winter’s rougher side)
This January touch of spring!

by Ray Romine Monday, February 1, 1954

Ice is forming on the stoop;
Cold winds make my spirits droop;
Bare trees frown, and snow clouds glower;
Pardon my descending lower.
Yet, (flashing back to last July)
There is not a single fly;
Lawns are not in need of mowing;
Boats are not requiring rowing;
We can’t broil ourselves today;
Picnics are some months away.
Winter begs that we employ it–
I’ll relax and just enjoy it.

by Ray Romine Sunday, June 17, 1951

No oratory I have heard;
No con-man’s flowing patter;
No argument which left me stirred;
No cooking’s clarion clatter;
No clever advertising’s touch;
No catalog that teases
Ever promised half so much
As April’s whispered breezes.

by Ray Romine Monday, September 10, 1951

St . Patrick’s Day- -0 let me bray
A Welcome, greenish holiday.
The why I sjng acclaim, you bring
Us to within four days of spring!

by Ray Romine Thursday, February 15, 1945

DULL winter day? Because it’s gray
Background for berried hedges?
Do fairer climes boast frosted rimes–
And snow around the edges?
Or summer hours’ colored flowers
Present a fairer story
Than this film run by twilight sun
In all its winter glory?
His life is right whose inner sight
Calls all creation brother,
Who sees no day in any way
As poorer than another.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, December 30, 1952