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winter.
Well, though thy face may wear a frown,
It is not always so;
And though thou send'st in plenty down,
On barren heath or peopled town,
The pale unsullied snow—
Full many a pleasure does it bring,
Upon its silent flakey wing:
The merry hills ring out amain,
When it lies thick on hill and plain.
It is not always so;
And though thou send'st in plenty down,
On barren heath or peopled town,
The pale unsullied snow—
Full many a pleasure does it bring,
Upon its silent flakey wing:
The merry hills ring out amain,
When it lies thick on hill and plain.
Thou fling'st thy jewels on the bough
Of every naked tree,
And hang'st thy pendant diamonds, where
The poorest hind may see;
And oft thou giv'st us skies as fair
As gentle Spring is wont to wear;
While pleasantly the soft winds play
Through all the clear and balmy day.
Of every naked tree,
And hang'st thy pendant diamonds, where
The poorest hind may see;
And oft thou giv'st us skies as fair
As gentle Spring is wont to wear;
While pleasantly the soft winds play
Through all the clear and balmy day.
The Christmas faggot blazing high—
The games of wonderous skill—
And oft the dismal legend told,
Of nightly ghost or robber bold,
To make young bosoms thrill;
The games of wonderous skill—
And oft the dismal legend told,
Of nightly ghost or robber bold,
To make young bosoms thrill;
