Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/231



Winter, come not here; Bluster in thy proper sphere: Howl along the naked plain, There exert thy joyless reign; Triumph o'er the withered flower, The leafless shrub, the ruined bower; But our cottage come not near;— Other springs inhabit here, Other sunshine decks our board, Than the niggard skies afford. Gloomy Winter, hence! away! Love and Fancy scorn thy sway; Love and Joy, and friendly Mirth, Shall bless this roof, these walls, this hearth; The rigour of the year controul, And thaw the winter in the soul.