Old Winter, thou art here! December
Introduces thee, and I am told
Thou wearest a long beard, and art old
And gray, if rightly I remember.
They say thy locks are full of ice,
And blue and peaked is thy nose;
And on thy cheeks are pearls froze,
That 'scaped down from thine eyes.
Wrapped in a cloak, close to thy chin,
Thou comest prepar'd for sleet and snow;
And fearest not tho' Boreas blow—
Forcing himself unwelcomed within
Poor-warmed dwellings of poverty:
But didst thou cause their misery?