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  • By Daniel Leach


The Woodcutter (1891) - Winslow Homer

The first true norther came today, With raging gusts of wind and rain, And blew the Summer heat away, And with it all of passion’s pain.

Though others think that sudden chill A harbinger of loss and death, I feel a wild, soul-stirring thrill In bleak November’s first cold breath.

For something in its barren gray, Its somber, still solemnity, Reminds me of a long-lost day I wandered with my spirit, free.

The silence of the listless streams, And shadows of the leafless trees, Enchanted my young soul with dreams

Of endless deep’ning mysteries.

And something in my soul awoke, That in a strange, familiar way, A new and unknown language spoke,

That I am hearing still today.

Daniel is a poet living in Houston, Texas. He has spent much of his life fighting for the ideals of classical culture and poetry. Read more of his poetry and writings on culture. His volume of poetry, compiling over 20 years of composition, is entitled "Voices on the Wind."

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