Classic Poem

In winter when the nights are long
The beggar wind goes crying,
And seeks above the shallow ponds
In midland pastures lying.
He whines above the dozing marsh
And through the orchard shivers,
He frets the leafless poplar row
And whimpers to the river.

O kindly waters, give, he cries,
A-cold and still imploring,
To warm me give your garnered heat
The summer heat you're storing.
And so he wheedles beggar-wise
As through the dark he shivers,
So takes their dole and leaves behind
The ice on lakes and rivers.