A Winter Piece

Surly Winter now returns; Nature droops her head, and mourns: Sol's oblique, descending ray, Lends a faint and transient day; Night the realms of day invades, And her dark dominion spreads.

Brooks no more meandering run; Streams are harden'd into stone; Where the boatman oft has ply'd, Pond'rous sleds securely glide.

Naked and deform'd are seen Meadows lately dress'd in green. Groves and fields are disarray'd; Leaves are wither'd, dry'd the blade. Songsters of the wood are flown, All their cheerful music gone; Not a swallow strains his throat, The lark forgets his sprightly note; Zephyrs, with their gentle breeze, Sport no more along the trees: Winds in angry murmurs howl, Skies with gathering tempests scowl; Proudest forests humbly bend; Thick the woolly flakes descend, See, how fast the valley fills! How the driving snow-bank swells! Batt'ring hail-stones urge the hind, Refuge in her shed to find; Trembling stand the hardy steer, Lowing for the master's care.

Farmers now their stables tend, And from storms the herds defend; Load with new—thresh'd grain the floor; Prudent deal the winter's store; Shiv'ring from the cold retire; Heap fresh fuel on the fire; From the evening borrow day, Drive the piercing frosts away; Sit secure within the doors, And defy the storm that roars; With a book, or chat, deceive The slow hours of winter's eve; Teach the list'ning youths the lore, Which their grandsires taught before; And their admiration raise With good things of ancient days: Or the works of distant climes, Or the news of modern times. Thus dull winter rolls away: Thus we pass the irksome day.

Ah! a deadlier winter speeds— Winter which no spring succeeds. When our blooming youth is gone, And our frosty age comes on, Then no more will spring return— Age is hopeless—age forlorn— Hopeless?—no—the silver'd head Shows, the storms of life are fled: So the sunshine tips the hills, As it louring clouds dispels.

Happy Christian, who has trod All the length of virtue's road, From the goal his eye can cast Back on storms and dangers past, And with hope anticipate Pleasures of the heav'nly state! When is clos'd this varied scene, Calmer seasons then begin.