51
Written on the FIRST of DECEMBER,
1793.
Tho' now no more the musing ear
Delights to listen to the breeze,
That lingers o'er the green wood shade,
I love thee, Winter! well.
Delights to listen to the breeze,
That lingers o'er the green wood shade,
I love thee, Winter! well.
Sweet are the harmonies of Spring,
Sweet is the Summer's evening gale,
Pleasant the Autumnal winds that shake
The many-colour'd grove.
Sweet is the Summer's evening gale,
Pleasant the Autumnal winds that shake
The many-colour'd grove.
And pleasant to the sober'd soul
The silence of the wintry scene,
When Nature shrouds her in her trance
In deep tranquility.
The silence of the wintry scene,
When Nature shrouds her in her trance
In deep tranquility.
