WINTER,

A SONNET.

BEHOLD the gloomy tyrant's awful form
 Binding the captive earth in icy chains;
 His chilling breath sweeps o'er the wat'ry plains,
 Howls in the blast, and swells the rising storm. 

See from its centre bends the rifted tower,
 Threat'ning the lowly vale with frowning pride,
 O'er the scar'd flocks that seek its shelt'ring side,
 A fearful ruin o'er their heads to pour. 

While to the cheerful hearth and social board
 Content and ease repair, the sons of want
 Receive from niggard fate their pittance scant;
 And where some shed bleak covert may afford,
 Wan poverty, amidst her meagre host,
 Casts round her haggard eyes, and shivers at the frost.