Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Allan Cunningham

Gone were but the winter cold,
  And gone were but the snow,
I could sleep in the wild woods
  Where primroses blow.

Cold ’s the snow at my head,
  And cold at my feet;
And the finger of death ’s at my e’en,
  Closing them to sleep.

Let none tell my father
  Or my mother so dear,—
I’ll meet them both in heaven
  At the spring of the year.

Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250-1900 | Clarendon, 1919

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Tags, sometimes called “folksonomies,” are words that describe or categorize a poem, like “20th century modernism” or “Italian sonnet”. Tags can help you find poems that have something in common, based on how other people classify them.

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