The Heart which hardens, and which rules the Head.
When Winter stern his gloomy front uprears,
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A sable void the barren earth appears;
The meads no more their former verdure boast,
Fast bound their streams, and all their Beauty lost;
The herds, the flocks, their icy garments mourn,
And wildly murmur for the Spring's return;
The fallen branches from the sapless tree
With glittering fragments strow the glassy way;