[557] The small cottage wherein Bewick was born, stands at a short distance from this village (Avingham.)
[558] It never continues longer than one day.
[559] At [col. 983].
[560] Strutt.
December 31.
To December.
The passing year, all grey with hours,
Ends, dull month, with thee;
Chilled his summer, dead his flowers,
Soon will his funeral be;
Frost shall drink up his latest breath,
And tempests rock him into death.
How he shivers! from his age
All his leaves have faded,
And his weary pilgrimage
Ends at last unaided
By his own sun that dims its ray,
To leave him dark in his decay.
Hark! through the air the wild storm bears
In hollow sounds his doom,
While scarce a star its pale course steers
Athwart the sullen gloom;
And Nature leaves him to his fate,
To his grey hairs a cold ingrate.