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A Hard Winter

A Hard Winter image
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Huil ! monarch of tho lcuflcSB CTOWK Ra Keen Havo with n gïoomy frovrn, I With ioe for aoepter, roboa of huow, Thj forana - the gtréaro'H uroatêd fiow - Sd Vn tyimnt ! whom the naat'ning sim ' Tullí I.iuUip to servo, by uporaduu Beglrt, .1 laelancholy train, Oer nature holding Ftaddeet reign. Lo ! of thy rigor blrda makt' plaint-, And all thiiiRH 'neath thy burden faint. Nor cheered are they by méense cold, In answor by thy north wiud told, 'i'iiM 6uvy erf thy grevioua swny, hen thon wouldst drive all hope away From nature, yearnlng to reatan To oartli the blBM it knew bcfor-1, W'heu utimiiK-r ruUit uith i 'ïnjiife mild, And autumn, etill rudd.v ohüd, Lay cxadled 'mong the greemry Of M-hiKp'rins filtovc and laden tro(, The lr(Kk that prattled to the air OL goMon harvcMts, Bcenea as fair Ar poet rapt in fancy'e niaze Oould acaree ciiHÜríne in mortal layfl, Now rudo and angry hurla along Tho hsarera of his sumnier aoiiR- The branch and lt;af that oncfl r&paid His muslo with thcir tender Hinde. And catching eephyr'a honeyjd fcoae, To bis Bweet tnnlng Joined thfeit own. )r bound, perchflnee, u duranoe slow, Full faint he weüdfl, and moanlng low, Fit dirgo he tuaea o'or freedom lost, In joy öf which he wautoutosaed The falling blosaoins on his wave, Fot water-nympha to catch and save. Now atxipt of hin green bravery, Ju pitcous pUght the weary tree Ih blo-w-u upou by niookiufï wind, Whom chaRed now ho Pigbing fluds From thoee gay püymates wefcomea orst In glee by his young leavea whnn first They wove tli.'ir merry bréöze-UTight dantv, And'broke their feathcred ledgers1 trance, viiat time Uie eastern wavo did glram 'Neath forc-fcet of the golden team. Not tmsy now with tender rare, For coming brood the birds preparo Their airy oradle, rooked unecru By Dryad hande boliind the ecroea Of leafy curtains, whcre no eyo Of miwèhief curioun may pry. Tho thrueh that erst with welling voico Made ail the t-nnglcd brakc rejoico In oehoes of hiH mcllowed train, To mopc in silence now is fain ; Nor ever pipes from straining throat The varied wondere of Iiíb note. So bleak the scène, so sad tho day, Too harsh. O winter, is thv sway !


Old News
Michigan Argus