The Winter
Smiles and blooms have crawled away in haste;
Cool sweetness and incense of the prime
Have receded into the pothole of time
With the irritant summer and the rainy waste ;
Winter is an epitome of the silent knell --
Pale , pensive, plaintive, heavy and cold ;
Colours are all lost in the grey fold,
With the bright charm of the bygone spell ,
As she sits robed in ashen attire again ,
Streching herself with limbs wide across
The deceased crags and the patchy moss ,
Lining randomly along the sickly plain
Weary, withering, wany life and all. ..
Are thus sadly shrouded in the last fall..!
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