Since dark December shrouds the transient day,
And stormy Winds are howling in their ire,
Why com'st not THOU, who always can'st inspire
The soul of cheerfulness, and best array
A sullen hour in smiles?—O haste to pay
The cordial visit sullen hours require!—
Around the circling walls a glowing fire
Shines;—but it vainly shines in this delay
To blend thy spirit's warm Promethean light.
Come then, at Science', and at Friendship's call,
Their vow'd Disciple;—come, for they invite!
The social Powers without thee languish all.
Come, that I may not hear the winds of Night,
Nor count the heavy eave-drops as they fall.
Dec. 21st, 1782.