Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky
Wrap him around with a mantle of cloud;
But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh;
Thou tearest away the mournful shroud,
And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly,
Who has toiled for naught both late and early,
Is banished afar by the new born year,
When thy merry step draws near.
—From the French of Charles D’Orleans,
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.