For the New-York Weekly Magazine.
THE POOR MAN’S ADDRESS TO WINTER.
Oh stay a while—unfeeling Winter—grant
A little respite to a hapless wretch;
Who now, though doom’d to misery and want,
On the bare ground his weary limbs can stretch.
He now, when bath’d in night’s unhealthful dews,
Can point his bosom to the solar ray;
That friendly ray shall warmth and life infuse,