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Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
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Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
For number or proportion.
Up rose the wild old winter-king,
And shook his beard of snow;
"I hear the first young read more
Up rose the wild old winter-king,
And shook his beard of snow;
"I hear the first young hard-bell ring,
'Tis time for me to go!
Northward o'er the icy rocks,
Northward o'er the sea,
My daughter comes with sunny locks:
This land's too warm for me!"
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a read more
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay--
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
Every Fern is tucked and set,
'Neath coverlet,
Downy and soft and warm.
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for read more
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air,
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet,
His read more
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air,
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet,
His finger on all flowing waters sweet
Forbidding lay--motion nor sound was there:--
Nature was frozen dead,--and still and slow,
A winding sheet fell o'er her body fair,
Flaky and soft, from his wide wings of snow.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will read more
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.
And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.
Yet all how beautiful! Pillars of pearl
Propping the cliffs above, stalactites bright
From the ice roof read more
Yet all how beautiful! Pillars of pearl
Propping the cliffs above, stalactites bright
From the ice roof depending; and beneath,
Grottoes and temples with their crystal spires
And gleaming columns radiant in the sun.