JANUARY
Christmas feels,--
That well-fed and wine-reeling
wassailer,--
With all his feasts and fires, feels cold
and shivers,
And the red runnel of his indolent
blood
Creeps slow and curdled as a northern
flood.
And lakes and winter-rills, impetuous
rivers
And headlong cataracts, are in silence
bound,
Like trammelled tigers lashed to
th'unyielding ground.
Cornelius Webb
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