A Calendar of Sonnets: January
O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire,What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turnDismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urnOf death! Far sooner in midsummer tireThe streams than under ice. June could not hireHer roses to forego the strength they learnIn sleeping on thy breast. No fires can burnThe bridges thou dost lay where men desireIn vain to build.O Heart, when Love's sun goesTo northward, and the sounds of singing cease,Keep warm by inner fires, and rest in peace.Sleep on content, as sleeps the patient rose.Walk boldly on the white untrodden snows,The winter is the winter's own release.
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