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..!