| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | In Winter | | By William Struthers |
| | | RUDE, keen, ah! cruel sweeps the winter wind! | |
| No pity has it for these naked boughs. | |
| Look! how round shrinking twigs it doth carouse; | |
| The while its echoes, bugle-shrill, are dinned | |
| Across the land, whose energies lie pinned | 5 |
| Beneath its swoop, and which, with sleet-seamed brows, | |
| Unto the blast, like some bond-creature, bows, | |
| Or like a wretch who iterates, “I ’ve sinned!” | |
| Yet desolation worse than winter’s dearth | |
| O’erwhelms a soul that cowereth unto Fate, | 10 |
| And will not eyes uplift, nor spurn the earth, | |
| Nor for the springtide with endurance wait, | |
| Nor disbelieve a lie that slays its mirth, | |
| But stands dumb, deaf and sightless nigh Love’s gate! | | | | |
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