Winter

Listen to:

Winter (2:17)

by Samuel Johnson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

No more the morn with tepid rays

Unfolds the flower of various hue; 

Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,

Nor gentle eve distills the dew.

The lingering hours prolong the night,

Usurping darkness shares the day;

Her mists restrain the force of light,

And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway.

By gloomy twilight half revealed,

With sighs we view the hoary hill,

The leafless wood, the naked field,

The snow-topp'd cot, the frozen rill.

No music warbles through the grove,

No vivid colours paint the plain;

No more with devious steps I rove

Through verdant paths, now sought in vain.

Aloud the driving tempest roars;

Congeal'd impetuous showers descend;

Haste, close the window, bar the doors,

Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend.

In nature's aid let art supply

With light and heat my little sphere;

Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high;

Light up a constellation here.

Let music sound the voice of joy!

Or mirth repeat the jocund tale;

Let love his wanton wiles employ,

And o'er the season wine prevail.

Yet time life's dreary winter brings,

When mirth's gay tale shall please no more;

Nor music charm, though Stella sings;

Nor love, nor wine the spring restore.

Catch the, O! catch the transient hour,

Improve each moment as it flies;

Life's a short Summer - man a flower,

He dies - alas! how soon he dies!