January 13

O ye frost and cold, bless ye the Lord.

SWEETER yet than dream or song of summer or spring

Are winter's sometime smiles, that seem to well

From infancy ineffable;

Her wandering, languorous gaze,

So unfamiliar, so without amaze,

On the elemental, chill adversity,

The uncomprehended rudeness; and her sigh

And solemn, gathering tear,

And look of exile from some great repose, the sphere

Of ether, moved by ether only, or

By something still more tranquil.—

COVENTRY PATMORE

THE GOODNESS OF GOD