Hubert Parry — Nightfall in Winter

Cold is the air The woods are bare And brown; the herd Stand in the yard The frost doth fall; And round the hill The hares move slow; The homeward crow Alone and high Crosses the sky All silently The quick streams freeze; The moving trees Are still; for now No breeze will blow: The wind has gone With the day, down And clouds are come Bearing the gloom The yellow grass In the clear glass Of the bright pool Grows soft and dull The water's eye That held the sky Now glazеs quite; And now the light On the cold hill Fadеth, until The giant mass Doth seem to pass From near to far; The clouds obscure The sky with gloom: The night is come The night is come