From Songs, hymns, and psalms, by Jonas Hanway, p9, 1783.

listen to the tune (midi file)

Winter

 When the Trees are all bare not a Leaf to be seen,
 And the Meadows their Beauties have lost,
 When all Nature's disrob'd of her Mantle of Green,
 And the Streams are fast bound with the frost,
 When the Peasant inactive stands shiv'ring with Cold,
 As bleak the Winds Northerly blow,
 When the Innocent Flocks run for Care to their Fold,
 With their Fleeces all cover'd with Snow
 With their Fleeces all cover'd with Snow. 
 
 In the yard where the cattle are fodder'd with straw,
 When they send forth their breath like a stream;
 And the neat-looking dairy-maid sees she must thaw
 Flakes of ice that she finds in her cream--
 When the birds to the barn come hovering for food,
 Or they silently sit on the spray;
 And the poor timid hare in vain seeks the wood,
 Left her footsteps her course should betray--
 
 Heaven grant in this season it may prove my lot,
 With the wife whom I love and admire,
 While the icicles hang from the eaves of my cot,
 I may thither in safety retire!
 Where in neatness and quiet, and free from surprize,
 We may live, and no hardships endure;
 Nor feel any turbulent passions arise,
 But such as each other may cure.