“Those Winter Sundays”

“Those Winter Sundays”
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  • Sundays too my father got up early  and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,  then with cracked hands that ached  from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. 
  • What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices?
  • I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress
  • Speaking indifferently to him,  who had driven out the cold  and polished my good shoes as well. 
  •  love's austere ??????
  •  love's austere ??????
  •  love's austere ??????
  •  love's austere ??????
  • “Those Winter Sundays”
  • “Those Winter Sundays”
  • By: Robert Hayden
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