Winter. Poem by Samuel Bamford

How fearful, yet how mournful is the tone
Of Winter, howling in his stormy zone!
O'erwhelming pow'r, from night-bound realms afar,
Who lead'st the wrathful elements to war;
Whose voice is heard when storms in chorus sing;
Whose breath doth icy desolation bring;
Who piles the clouds, or rends them as he goes,
Melts into floods, or freezes into snows;
O'er wither'd regions doth the Giant stride,
Lifts his dark hand, and turns the sun aside!