438. Impromptu on Mrs. Riddell’s Birthday
OLD Winter, with his frosty beard, Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: “What have I done of all the year, To bear this hated...
This is a poetry & verse.
OLD Winter, with his frosty beard, Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: “What have I done of all the year, To bear this hated doom severe? My cheerless suns no pleasure know; Night’s horrid car drags, dreary slow; My dismal months no joys are crowning, But spleeny English hanging, drowning. “Now Jove, for once be mighty civil. To counterbalance all this evil; Give me, and I’ve no more to say, Give me Maria’s natal day!…
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