Thursday, December 17, 2009
Frost At Midnight
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834
These are a few lines taken from a longer poem written by Coleridge in 1798, I don't have any photographs of 'frost at midnight' so one taken in January of this year when there was a spectacular hoar frost is the best I can do.