For works with similar titles, see Winter.
WINTER.
In imitation of a passage from J. B. Rousseau.
Hail thou,—of leisure sweet the sire!—
Who, round the bright, domestic fire,
Dost link fond hearts in strongest ties,
And kindle hopes, and mingle sighs,
Or 'neath the taper's glancing light
Convoke the banquet's festive rite.
More beauteous seasons deck the scene
With smiling vales, and skies serene,
But they with weary toil are prest,
And thou dost bring the boon of rest.—
Fair Flora vaunts her painted flowers,
Gay Ceres sports in fragrant bowers,
And Bacchus, proud of Autumn's crown
Red from the vintage lays him down,
But thou, blest Sire, without their care
Dost reap the fruit they all prepare.