Was never pipe of reed did better sound:
Winter is come that blows the bitter blast,
And after winter dreary death does hast.
"Gather together, ye my little flock,
My little flock, that was to me so lief;
Let me, ah! let me in your folds ye lock,
Ere the breme winter breed you greater grief.
Winter is come, that blows the baleful breath,
And after winter cometh timely death.
"Adieu, delights, that lulled me asleep;