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Winter
Still the faint harps and silver voices calm the weary couch;
But from the caves of deepest Night, ascending
in clouds of mist,
The Winter spread his wide black wings across from pole to pole;
Grim Frost beneath
and terrible Snow, link'd in a marriage chain,
Began a dismal dance. The Winds around on pointed rocks
Settled
like bats innumerable, ready to fly abroad.
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