It Was A Bright And Cheerful Afternoon, Towards The End Of The Sunny Month Of June, When The North Wind Congregates In Crowds The Floating Mountains Of The Silver Clouds From The Horizon - And The Stainless Sky Opens Beyond Them Like Eternity. All Things Rejoiced Beneath The Sun; The Weeds, The River, And The Corn-Fields, And The Reeds; The Willow Leaves That Glanced In The Light Breeze, And The Firm Foliage Of The Larger Trees. It Was A Winter Such As When Birds Die In The Deep Forests; And The Fishes Lie Stiffened In The Translucent Ice, Which Makes Even The Mud And Slime Of The Warm Lakes A Wrinkled Clod As Hard As Brick; And When, Among Their Children, Comfortable Men Gather About Great Fires, And Yet Feel Cold: Alas, Then, For The Homeless Beggar Old!