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With snowy locks December stands
'Mid sleet and storm; his wasted hands
A frosty scepter grasp and hold;
His frame is bent, his limbs are old;
His bearded lips are iced and pale;
He shivers in the winter gale.
Come then, O day of warm heart-cheer,
Make glad the waste and waning year,
While old December shivering goes
To rest beneath the drifted snows!
- Benj. F. Leggett.