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!"

The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.

The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.

Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.

Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.

O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
. . . .
I crown thee king of intimate read more

O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
. . . .
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.

But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and read more

But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must time obey.

People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare read more

People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water read more

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago.

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of read more

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes--

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.