  WINTER The keen, clear air—the splendid sight— We waken to a world of ice; Where all things are enshrined in light, As by some genie's quaint device. 'Tis winter's jubilee this day His stores their countless treasures yield; See how the diamond glances play, In ceaseless blaze, from tree and field. The cold, bare spot where late we ranged, The naked woods, are seen no more; This earth to fairy land is changed, With glittering silver sheeted o'er. O God of Nature! with what might Of beauty, shower'd on all below, Thy guiding power would lead aright, Earth's wanderer all Thy love to know! Andrews Norton. |
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