Tam’d by the cruel season, crowd around

The winnowing store, and claim the little boon

Which Providence assigns them. One alone,

The red-breast, sacred to the household Gods,

Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky,

In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves

His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man

His annual visit. Half-afraid, he first

Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights

On the warm hearth; then hopping o’er the floor,