DECEMBER.
Chill the night wind moans and sighs,
On the sward the stubble dies;
Slow across the meadows rank
Float the cloud-rifts grim and dank;
On the hill-side, bare and brown,
Twilight shadows gather down,
'Tis December.
On the sward the stubble dies;
Slow across the meadows rank
Float the cloud-rifts grim and dank;
On the hill-side, bare and brown,
Twilight shadows gather down,
'Tis December.
Stark and gaunt the naked trees
Wrestle with the wrestling breeze,
While beneath, at every breath,
Dead leaves hold a dance of death;
But the pine-trees' sighing grace
Greenly decks the barren place,
In December.
Wrestle with the wrestling breeze,
While beneath, at every breath,
Dead leaves hold a dance of death;
But the pine-trees' sighing grace
Greenly decks the barren place,
In December.
Chirp of bird nor hum of bee
Breaks across the barren lea;
Only silence, cold and drear,
Nestles closely far and near,
Breaks across the barren lea;
Only silence, cold and drear,
Nestles closely far and near,
