Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.
December
Only the sea intoning,
Only the wainscot-mouse,
Only the wild wind moaning
Over the lonely house.
T. B. Aldrich—December, 1863.
Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New England’s strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.
Bryant—The Twenty-second of December.
December drops no weak, relenting tear,
By our fond Summer sympathies ensnared,
Nor from the perfect circle of the year
Can even Winter’s crystal gems be spared.
C. P. Cranch—December.
Shout now! The months with loud acclaim,
Take up the cry and send it forth;
May breathing sweet her Spring perfumes,
November thundering from the North.
With hands upraised, as with one voice,
They join their notes in grand accord;
Hail to December! say they all,
It gave to Earth our Christ the Lord!
J. K. Hoyt—The Meeting of the Months.
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne’er remember
Apollo’s summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time
Keats—Stanzas.
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
Pope—Dunciad. Bk. I. L. 77.
When we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away?
Cymbeline. Act III. Sc. 3. L. 36.
The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Whittier—Snow-Bound.