Winter: Favorite Poems

Winter

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;

When blood is nipped, and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl.

Tu-whit, to-who! a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,

And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw;

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl.

Tu-whit, to-who! a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

--William Shakespeare (1564-1616).

A lovely little gem on country life in the winter; most of the details still apply, from bad roads ("ways be foul") to coughing during the Sunday sermon ("parson's saw"). One particularly Christmasy detail are the "roasted crabs", which aren't seafood but roasted crab-apples, cooked in the wassail-bowl. And "greasy Joan" who "keels" (cools by stirring and skimming the top of) the pot is not greasy with food: she's sweating from working near the hot cooking pot. The keen little illustration is by Pauline Baynes, Lor' bless 'er.