THE POETRY OF WINTER. WINTER. SEE! Winter comes, to rule the varied year, Vapors, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme, And sung of Nature with unceasing joy,— Pleased have I wandered through your rough domain; Trod the pure virgin snows, myself as pure. THOMSON. FARM-YARD IN WINTER. WHEN now, unsparing as the scourge of war, FARM-YARD IN WINTER. 113 When pressing round him, eager for the prize, Though Night approaching bids for rest prepare, There views the white-robed clouds in clusters driven, And all the glorious pageantry of Heaven. |