Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, <br />A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; <br />Blinks but an hour or two; and then, <br />A blood-red orange, sets again. <br /> <br />Before the stars have left the skies, <br />At morning in the dark I rise; <br />And shivering in my nakedness, <br />By the cold candle, bathe and dress. <br /> <br />Close by the jolly fire I sit <br />To warm my frozen bones a bit; <br />Or with a reindeer-sled, explore <br />The colder countries round the door. <br /> <br />When to go out, my nurse doth wrap <br />Me in my comforter and cap; <br />The cold wind burns my face, and blows <br />Its frosty pepper up my nose. <br /> <br />Black are my steps on silver sod; <br />Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; <br />And tree and house, and hill and lake, <br />Are frosted like a wedding cake.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-time/
