Power of the awful wind, whose hollow blast Hurls desolation wide, thy sway I hail! Thou o'er the scene around can'st beauties cast, Superior far to aught that Summer's gale Can, in the ripening year, to bloom awake; To view thy majesty, the cheerful tale, The dance, the festive song, I, pleased, forsake; And here, thy power and thy attractions own, Now the pale regent of thy splendid night Decks with her yellow rays thy snowy throne; Richly her beams on Summer's mantle light, Richly they gild chill Autumn's tawny vest But, ah! to me they shine more chastely bright, Spangling the icy robe that wraps thy breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM EARTH TO EARTH by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY SONNET: 3 by DIGBY MACKWORTH DOLBEN |