Percy Bysshe Shelley
Winter
It was a winter such as when birds die
In the deep forests; and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes
A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when
Among their children, comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold
Alas then for the homeless beggar old