Winter

Listen to:

Winter (:57)

by Robert Southey 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

A wrinkled crabbed man they picture thee, 

Old Winter, with a rugged beard as grey 

As the long moss upon the apple-tree; 

Blue-lipt, an icedrop at thy sharp blue nose, 

Close muffled up, and on thy dreary way 

Plodding alone through sleet and drifting snows. 

They should have drawn thee by the high-heapt hearth, 

Old Winter! seated in thy great armed chair, 

Watching the children at their Christmas mirth; 

Or circled by them as thy lips declare 

Some merry jest, or tale of murder dire, 

Or troubled spirit that disturbs the night, 

Pausing at times to rouse the mouldering fire, 

Or taste the old October brown and bright.