December.
Louisa Parsons Hopkins.
Blow, northern winds!
To brace my fibers, knit my cords,
To gird my soul, to fire my words,
To do my work—for ’tis the Lord’s—
To fashion minds.
Come, tonic blasts!
Arouse my courage, stir my thought,
Give nerve and strength that as I ought
I give my strength to what is wrought
While duty lasts.
Glow, arctic light!
And let my heart with burnished steel
That bright magnetic flame reveal
Which kindles purpose, faith, and zeal
For truth and right.
Shine, winter skies!
That when each brave day’s work is done
I wait in peace from sun to sun,
To meet unshamed, through victory won,
Your starry eyes.
Under these names, January, February, March, April, how much is hid that the eye cannot see! Uncover the months and interpret them. In a low and sweet way our Almanac began to speak as if he were a harp, and as if the spirit of the year like a gentle wind was breathing through it.—Henry Ward Beecher.