In manners most courtly, and dignified quite;
But I’m told were he goes unexpected he’s rough,
Chills all by his presence, and savage enough.
Hark, hear how it storms! blowing high and yet higher;
But then we’ve books, music, and a brilliant wood fire,
Where logs piled on logs give one warmth e’en to see;
Oh! these evenings in winter are charming to me.
In good keeping these logs are with wind and the hail,
Everything in the country is on a grand scale.
You have nought in the city I think can compare,