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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
 
December
 
        In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
Pope.    
  1
        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.    
  2
        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 bespared.
C. P. Cranch.    
  3
            In December ring
    Every day the chimes;
    Loud the gleemen sing
In the streets their merry rhymes.
    Let us by the fire
    Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!
Longfellow.    
  4
        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.    
  5
 
 
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