Destroyers and Other Verses/A Sparkling Coldness in the Morning Air

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New York: Oxford University Press, page 66

A sparkling coldness in the morning air
Proclaims the death of summer; without fear,
I greet this herald of the dying year,
Whose icy breath cries; "Winter comes! Prepare!"
Let winter come; for though the wold be bare,
My corn is garnered: now the leaves are sere,
Each orchard-twig droops with its russet tear,
And I greet winter with a harvest prayer.

The restless hopes of spring have dropped away
In fruitful generation, and desire
Died with the virgin petals' snowy fall,
But many a fruitful hour and glorious day
Close soul to soul, beside the evening fire,
We celebrate with harvest festival.