The Winter Woods
O sweet and solitary woods, friends to my weary downcast thoughts, while in these troubled and imperfect days the north wind folds the earth and air in rugged frost;
On either hand your green and shadowy tresses seem, like mine own, ancient and white, now that your open glades in place of bright and crimson flowers bear ice and snow:
Musing I go in the brief misty light that is left me; my spirits and limbs are turned to ice:
But more than you I freeze without and within; for to me my winter brings a crueller wind, a longer night, and colder, scantier days.
On either hand your green and shadowy tresses seem, like mine own, ancient and white, now that your open glades in place of bright and crimson flowers bear ice and snow:
Musing I go in the brief misty light that is left me; my spirits and limbs are turned to ice:
But more than you I freeze without and within; for to me my winter brings a crueller wind, a longer night, and colder, scantier days.
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