It is full time that I should now arrest
Thought’s current in the midst. Though on a theme
So full and teeming, it might swiftly run
Its rapid course for ever. O’er the earth
The cold increases, and the bitter frost
Draws flowers upon each pane. I must retire
From this unsullied prospect, fair and calm
And eminently beautiful. The fire
Burns low within the grate, and embers lie
In darkness on the hearth, that but of late