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In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
 Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
 Out of an unseen quarry evermore
  Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
read more 
 Come, see the north-wind's masonry,
 Out of an unseen quarry evermore
  Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
   Curves his white bastions with projected roof
    Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
     Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
      So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
       For number or proportion. 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
 Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
  Seems read more 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
 Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
  Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
   Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
    And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
     The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
      Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
       Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
        In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and read more
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.
 And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters 
of that country know them to read more 
 And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters 
of that country know them to be sharp and violent, and subject to 
cruel and fierce storms. . . . For summer being done, all things 
stand upon them with a weather-beaten face, and the whole 
country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and 
savage hue. 
 Whose woods these are I think I know.
 His house is in the village though;
  He will read more 
 Whose woods these are I think I know.
 His house is in the village though;
  He will not see me stopping here
   To watch his woods fill up with snow. 
 On a lone winter evening, when the frost
 Has wrought a silence.  
 On a lone winter evening, when the frost
 Has wrought a silence. 
 Winter is icumen in,
 Lhude sing Goddamm,
  Raineth drop and staineth slop,
   And how read more 
 Winter is icumen in,
 Lhude sing Goddamm,
  Raineth drop and staineth slop,
   And how the wind doth ramm!
    Sing: Goddamm. 
 Yet all how beautiful! Pillars of pearl
 Propping the cliffs above, stalactites bright
  From the ice roof read more 
 Yet all how beautiful! Pillars of pearl
 Propping the cliffs above, stalactites bright
  From the ice roof depending; and beneath,
   Grottoes and temples with their crystal spires
    And gleaming columns radiant in the sun.