Poems about ice describe the crystalline beauty and transformative power of frozen water. They capture the stillness, clarity, and fragility inherent in icy landscapes.
Poems about ice can also symbolize resilience and strength, as ice endures harsh conditions while retaining its form. They may delve into change, transformation, and the balance between solidity and fragility. These poems may explore the quiet serenity of winter, the glistening surfaces of frozen lakes and rivers, or the intricate patterns formed by frost.
‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a narrative poem about a shipwreck and human vanity.
It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughtèr,
To bear him company.
‘The Imaginary Iceberg’ plays with notions of reality, fantasy, and beauty by describing the grandeur of the titular iceberg.
We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship,
although it meant the end of travel.
Although it stood stock-still like cloudy rock
and all the sea were moving marble.
‘Polar Exploration’ reflects upon peaceful isolation and urban life, particularly how the latter appears to make the former impossible.
Our single purpose was to walk through snow
With faces swung to their prodigious North
Like compass iron. As clerks in whited Banks
With bird-claw pens column virgin paper
‘After the Titanic’ offers a unique character study into an important historical figure but also explores how people handle disaster.
They said I got away in a boat
And humbled me at the inquiry. I tell you
I sank as far that night as any
Hero. As I sat shivering on the dark water
‘Fire and Ice’ by Robert Frost explores a universal interest in the apocalypse. It has always been a phenomenon capable of capturing people’s minds.
Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
Inspired by the scenery he encountered on his trip through Europe when he arrived at Chamonix, ‘Mont Blanc’ is a poem about the untameable and majestic nature that the author encountered as he considers how this reflects on human consciousness.
The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark—now glittering—now reflecting gloom—
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
‘Photograph: Ice Storm, 1971’ sees the poet looking at an old photograph and remembering both the good and the bad memories.
Why the rough edge of beauty? Why
the tired face of a woman, suffering,
made luminous by the camera’s eye?
‘Exposure’ offers an in-depth view of life in the frosted winter of Northern France, where soldiers on duty would be left exposed to the elements.
Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire,
Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Northward, incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles,
Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war.
‘Antarctica’ by Derek Mahon is a poem that takes a look at the events of Captain Oates’ self-sacrifice in Antarctica.
‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’
The others nod, pretending not to know.
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
‘After Apple-Picking’ by Robert Frost begins with an apple-picker’s thoughts after a day of work. The poem goes on to explore themes of life and death.
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
‘My Love is like to ice, and I to fire’ describes the contradictory but also complementary personalities of the speaker and his lover.
My Love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
‘The Convergence of the Twain’ meditates on the Titanic’s collision with an iceberg, portraying human pride against nature’s menace.
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
In ‘The Eve of St. Agnes,’ John Keats celebrates an idealized love between two lovers while integrating folk beliefs in the poem.
St. Agnes' Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
‘Winter: My Secret’ teases with a guarded secret, weaving winter’s chill as a metaphor for concealment and reluctance.
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I;
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not today; it froze, and blows and snows,
And you’re too curious: fie!