Over the quivering surface of the stream, There is no dew on the dry grass to-night, The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut Which the keen evening star in shining through. -Percy Bysshe Shelley. EVENING. OW came still evening on, and twilight gray Now Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, -John Milton. Poetry of Winter. LAST WINTER ASTLY came Winter cleathed all in frize. Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill: Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freeze. And the duli drops that from his purple bill As from a limbeck did adown distill; In his right hand a tippèd staff he held With which his feeble steps he stayed still, For he was faint with cold and weak with PROUD UD Winter cometh like a warrior bold! His icy lances flashing in the light, His shield the night, starred bright with glittering gold, His mail the silver frost-work, dazzling, bright! He bringeth at his side the darkening storm, Yet many another mien, proud king of snow, Sw And snow has wrapped the fields in white; That, when the summer days were long, Upon the meadow's rounded side, The dainty flowers have drooped and died; |