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Afternoon in February The day is ending, While through the meadows, The night descending; Like fearful shadows, The marsh is frozen, Slowly passes The river dead. A funeral train. Through the clouds like ashes The bell is pealing, The red sun flashes And every feeling On village windows Within me responds The glimmer red. To the dismal knell; The snow recommences; Shadows are trailing, The buried fences My heart is bewailing Mark no longer And tolling within The road o'er the plain; Like a funeral bell. By Henry Wadsworth I chose this poem because it describes winter in a whole different way, from all the other poems that just talk about snow and family stuff. This poem specifically describes the end of winter, using words like descending, glimmer, and recommence. It is unique because his words are so true and if you have experienced that peaceful sight, you would know this poem is real, no gimmick. This is a very sad...

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