Classic Poem

And as in winter time when Jove his cold-sharpe javelines throwes
Amongst us mortals and is mov'd to white earth with his snowes
(The winds asleepe) he freely poures, till highest Prominents,
Hill tops, low meddowes and the fields that crowne with most contents
The toiles of men, sea ports and shores are hid, and everie place
But floods (that snowe's faire tender flakes, as their owne brood, embrace):
So both sides coverd earth with stones, so both for life contend
To shew their sharpnesse.