WINTER—A SONG.
THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
“Tell me what does winter mean!”
’Tis a drea-ry change of scene—
When the meadow yields its bloom,
And the blo-soms seek their tomb.
Winter is the time of storms,
When the cloud in angry forms,
O’er the land in terror sweeps,
And the sighing forest weeps.
’Tis the funeral time of flowers,
Withered in their lovely bowers;
While the zephyr sings in grief,
O’er each shrivelled stem and leaf.
’Tis the dreary time of snow,
Falling chill on all below,
As a winding-sheet it weaves
O’er the graves of myriad leaves.
Winter is a time of tears,
For the poor, in youth or years,—
Where the storm drives keenly in,
And the blanket’s brief and thin.
Winter is the time of wreck,
When the billow cleaves the deck,
And the mariners go down
Where the battling surges frown.