| William Blake (1757–1827). The Poetical Works. 1908. | | | | Poetical Sketches | | To Winter |
| | | ‘O WINTER! bar thine adamantine doors: | |
| The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark | |
| Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, | |
| Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.’ | |
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| He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep | 5 |
| Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathèd | |
| In ribbèd steel; I dare not lift mine eyes, | |
| For he hath rear’d his sceptre o’er the world. | |
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| Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings | |
| To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks | 10 |
| He withers all in silence, and in his hand | |
| Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life. | |
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| He takes his seat upon the cliffs,—the mariner | |
| Cries in vain. Poor little wretch, that deal’st | |
| With storms!—till heaven smiles, and the monster | 15 |
| Is driv’n yelling to his caves beneath mount Hecla. | | | | |
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