(March 1, 1921 / )

Boy At The Window

Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a God-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to paradise.

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.

by Richard Wilbur

Comments (44)

boi he thicccccc
I love how people can still see the simplest things and be compassionate about it... this poem is an example to such things. Thank you sir for creating such a piece of poetry.
ok it was trash sry jhgfghjkhgfdx
this was a kinda bad poem
tthis was a bad poem trashhh omega lol
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