WINTER'S FROST. AN icy gale, oft shifting o'er the pool, Loud rings the frozen earth, and hard reflects Swells in the breeze; and with the hasty tread It freezes on, Till Morn, late rising o'er the drooping world, Prone from the dripping eave, and dumb cascade, The pendent icicle, the frost-work fair, THOMSON. THE SNOW-CLOGGED WAIN. 125 WINTER TRIUMPHANT. THE dead leaves strew the forest-walk, Gone are the Spring's green sprouting bowers, Gone Summer's rich and mantling vines, And Autumn with her yellow hours On hill and plain no longer shines. BRAINARD. THE SNOW-CLOGGED WAIN. ILL fares the traveller now, and he that stalks By congregated loads adhering close To the clogged wheels; and in its sluggish pace The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide, Upon their jutting chests. He, formed to bear The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night, With half-shut eyes and puckered cheeks, and teeth Presented bare against the storm, plods on. One hand secures his hat, save when with both He brandishes his pliant length of whip, Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. COWPER. WINTER. WHEN icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail. Then nightly sings the staring owl, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; WINTER SERENADE. Then roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, And nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. SHAKSPEARE. WINTER SERENADE. THE minstrels played their Christmas tune The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, Through hill and valley every breeze So stout and hardy were the band That scraped the chords with strenuous hand. And who but listened?-till was paid Respect to every inmate's claim; 127 |