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 There's a certain Slant of light,
 Winter Afternoons--
  That oppresses, like the Heft
   Of read more 
 There's a certain Slant of light,
 Winter Afternoons--
  That oppresses, like the Heft
   Of Cathedral Tunes-- 
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
 Every Fern is tucked and set,
 'Neath coverlet,
  Downy and soft and warm.  
 Every Fern is tucked and set,
 'Neath coverlet,
  Downy and soft and warm. 
 These Winter nights against my window-pane
 Nature with busy pencil draws designs
  Of ferns and blossoms and read more 
 These Winter nights against my window-pane
 Nature with busy pencil draws designs
  Of ferns and blossoms and fine spray of pines,
   Oak-leaf and acorn and fantastic vines,
    Which she will make when summer comes again--
     Quaint arabesques in argent, flat and cold,
      Like curious Chinese etchings. 
 Look! the massy trunks
 Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
  Nodding and tinkling in read more 
 Look! the massy trunks
 Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
  Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
   Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
    That glimmer with an amethystine light. 
 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. 
 O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
 . . . .
  I crown thee king of intimate read more 
 O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
 . . . .
  I crown thee king of intimate delights,
   Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
    And all the comforts that the lowly roof
     Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours
      Of long uninterrupted evening, know. 
 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. 
 On a lone winter evening, when the frost
 Has wrought a silence.  
 On a lone winter evening, when the frost
 Has wrought a silence.