I long to shield me from the cruel storm
In some fair haven by the peaceful shore
To cast an anchor till life's storms are o'er.
In some fair haven by the peaceful shore
To cast an anchor till life's storms are o'er.
"THE CIRCLE OF THE GOLDEN YEAR"
JANUARY
The earth is white, the air is sharp and clear,
When joyous bells ring in the glad New Year;
With all its joy and grief, the old year's out—
We look not back, but welcome with a shout
The glad New Year, for all its days are ours
To live, to strive, and prove our manhoods' powers.
The earth is white, the air is sharp and clear,
When joyous bells ring in the glad New Year;
With all its joy and grief, the old year's out—
We look not back, but welcome with a shout
The glad New Year, for all its days are ours
To live, to strive, and prove our manhoods' powers.
FEBRUARY
But when the days begin to show their length,
Then winter hoar puts forth his utmost strength;
Then deeper, and still deeper, falls the snow,
And fiercer, and still fiercer wild winds blow,
Until the fields and woods are piled with drifts
And scarce a day the leaden storm cloud lifts.
But when the days begin to show their length,
Then winter hoar puts forth his utmost strength;
Then deeper, and still deeper, falls the snow,
And fiercer, and still fiercer wild winds blow,
Until the fields and woods are piled with drifts
And scarce a day the leaden storm cloud lifts.
MARCH
In March the Winter's last wild throes are seen,
With days of sunlight coming in between—
A strange commingling blast of heat and cold
And howling winds that sweep the barren wold,
The bleakest month of all the varied year,
But, at its close, the bare brown hills appear.
In March the Winter's last wild throes are seen,
With days of sunlight coming in between—
A strange commingling blast of heat and cold
And howling winds that sweep the barren wold,
The bleakest month of all the varied year,
But, at its close, the bare brown hills appear.
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