Winter Evenings

The summer is over,
The autumn is passed,
Dark clouds over us hover,
Loud whistles the blast ;
But clouds cannot darken,
nor tempest destroy
The soul's sweetest sunshine,
the heart's purest joy.
Our path is no bright one,
From morning till eve ;
Our task is no light one,
Till day takes its leave :
We'll turn to the pages
Of history's lore ;
Of bards and of sages
The beauties explore :
And share o'er the records we love to unroll
The "feast of the reason and flow of the soul."

Note:

Today is the birthday of the prolific English Quaker poet Bernard Barton who was born on January 31, 1784.

One of Barton’s most famous poems is this one - it heralds the spring Crocus.