Alfred Edward Housman

Last Poems. 20. The Night Is Freezing Fast

The night is freezing fast,
        To-morrow comes December;
                And winterfalls of old
Are with me from the past;
        And chiefly I remember
                How Dick would hate the cold.

Fall, winter, fall; for he,
        Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
                Has woven a winter robe,
And made of earth and sea
        His overcoat for ever,
                And wears the turning globe.