JOHN CLARE:  ADDRESS TO PLENTY - IN WINTER

Now the cutting Winter's come
'Tis but just to find a home,
In some shelter, dry and warm,
That will shield me from the storm.
Toiling in the naked fields,
Where no bush or shelter yields,
Needy Labour dithering stands,
Beats and blows his numbing hands;
And upon the crumping snows
Stamps, in vain, to warm his toes.

Comment:  A few lines from John Clare's poem 'Address to Plenty: In Winter'