Winter Songby Wilfred Owen

The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,And were swept up to heaven; where they glowedEach dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.

From off your face, into the winds of winter,The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

To Morningby William Blake

O holy virgin! clad in purest white,Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth;Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let lightRise from the chambers of the east, and bringThe honey'd dew that cometh on waking day.O radiant morning, salute the sunRous'd like a huntsman to the chase, and withThy buskin'd feet appear upon our hills

The Sun Has Setby Emily Bronte

The sun has set, and the long grass now Waves dreamily in the evening wind; And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone In some warm nook a couch to find.

In all the lonely landscape round I see no light and hear no sound, Except the wind that far away Come sighing o'er the healthy sea.

The Night is Darkening Around Meby Emily Bronte

The night is darkening round me,The wild winds coldly blow ;But a tyrant spell has bound me,And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bendingTheir bare boughs weighed with snow ;The storm is fast descending,And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,Wastes beyond wastes below ;But nothing drear can move me :I will not, cannot go.