A winter garden in an alder swamp,
Where conies now come out to sun and romp,
As near a paradise as it can be
And not melt snow or start a dormant tree.

It lifts existence on a plane of snow
One level higher than the earth below,
One level nearer heaven overhead,
And last year’s berries shining scarlet red.

It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast
Where he can stretch and hold his highest feat
On some wild apple tree’s young tender bark,
What well may prove the year’s high girdle mark.

So near to paradise all pairing ends:
Here loveless birds now flock as winter friends,
Content with bud-inspecting. They presume
To say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.

A feather-hammer gives a double knock.
This Eden day is done at two o’clock.
An hour of winter day might seem too short
To make it worth life’s while to wake and sport.

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2 Comments

  1. Josh says:

    I am a fan of Robert Frost’s Work. I am doing a project for English on this particular poem in which I chose. I believe that the speaker is Robert and that even though it is winter and some look at winter as death and what not that it could still be a wonderful sight to see. Also that Winter can make things more beautiful than they would be uncovered.

  2. laura says:

    good poem, have to memorize it for school, i think the meaning is that just around the corner of winter is spring and spring is like a paradise, and winter cannot last forever, someimes you have to wake up and face life

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