Poetry: Winter

Eren Winter to me hath a. thousand delighta, With its short, gloomy days, and jts long starrj nights; And I love to go forlh e'er the dawn to inhale The hfallh-breathing freshness that floats iri the gale; When the sun risetli red o'er the crest of the hill, And the trees of the woodland are hoarytnd still; When the motion and sound of the streatnlet are lost In the icy embrace of mysterieus frost; When the hunter is out on the shelterless moor, And the robin looks in at the cottnger's door; When the Spirit of Nature hath folded his wings, To nouri8h the seeds of all glorious things, Till the herb and the Jeaf, and the fruit and the flower, Shall wake in the fulness of beauty and power.