Classic Poem

Increasing cold and wint'ry tempests rage,
And desolate fair Nature's wide domain;
The wither'd groves, sad types of hoary age,
With fallen leaves bestrew the frozen plain.

See! in the half-till'd furrow, bound by frost,
The plough lies useless, half-conceal'd by snow;
The cottager, his means of labour lost,
Dejected sits, resign'd to silent woe.

Dear is the fuel—dear the daily bread;
His weeping children cry to him for food:
In vain they ask.—Oh! raise his drooping head,
Ye rich, and know the joy of doing good.

To distribute the brread and garments warm
To fellow-mortals, and their griefs remove,
Shall add to Beauty's smile a brighter charm,—
The light of Sensibility and Love.

Ye ladies! think it no ignoble task,
From Mis'ry's cheek to wipe the trembling tear;
The poor and weak, who your assistance ask,
May shine like suns in Heav'n, tho' wretched here.