Sonnets - Part 1

Winter is now around me, and the snow
Has thrown its mantle over herb, tree, flower:
The icicle has tapestried the bower,
And in a crystal sheet the rivers flow;
And mustering from the north, at evening, blow
The hollow winds, and through the star-lit hour
Shake from the icy wood a rattling shower,
That tinkles on the glassy crust below;
And Morning rises in a saffron glow,
Pouring her splendor through the fretted grove,
In tints that round the heart enchantment throw,
Like what the Graces in their girdle wove;
And shining on the mountain's frosted brow,
That o'er the gilded landscape looks afar,
Her kindling beams the virgin mantle strow
With drops of gold, that twinkle like a star.
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